Substitute
by DracoMaleficium
Summary: A 38-year-old former Navy officer currently trying to make a life as a gym teacher in a small community. A 17-year-old boy with severe Issues. One big mess. A modern AU Jeeko as a personal nod to everyone who likes this pairing. WIP
1. Prologue

A/N: So basically this is what happens when I try to be original. A modern Jeeko AU. Meaning: YES, there will be cross-generation slash here in the future, complete with everything that comes with it. You have been warned.

* * *

It may perhaps be considered ironic that when Jee saw Zuko Xi for the first time, it happened in a teashop.

Jee was not a tea man by any definition. If he were to align himself with any beverage in such a way, he would have chosen something less leafy and more… vegetable-or-fruit-based. Preferably served in a bottle or a glass rather than a teacup and containing a reasonable dosage of alcohol, though as to the precise nature of the vegetable-or-fruit-drink in question and the actual quantity of alcohol in it, he wasn't picky.

As if to make the meeting even more unlikely, the day of this momentous occasion was in the middle of an exceptionally hot August, with the sun reigning supreme in the sky and gracing the Earth with its mercilessly intensive gaze. All summer long it had been persisting in this way, chasing children into the air-conditioned sanctuary of their basements and grown men into the even more pleasant sanctuary of pubs.

The aura was not in the least favorable to frequenting bloody _teashops_, thank you very much.

Looking back, Jee really did believe it was ironic that one of the most important things to happen in his life began in probably the least likely place he would go to, second only to the old town museum, which contained mostly boring rocks, but failed to contain air-conditioning.

If Jee believed in such a thing as fate – though he did believe that someone up there was actively trying to screw him over, which to some people is pretty much the same thing – he could have said that it guided his footsteps that day.

Because it was precisely in a teashop that Jee had found himself in on that particular afternoon, his best white shirt already drenched uncomfortably in sweat, the trousers of his lightest suit clinging to his sweaty legs. Accompanying him was Headmaster Pakku, who was, in fact, the one to have guided his footsteps here instead of Fate and who must have been an emissary from some very deep level of hell in disguise, since any other man would not have chosen to have hot tea in this damn weather.

Jee only hoped they served iced tea in this place.

"Ah," Pakku stopped in the doorway and closed his eyes. "Smell it, Lieutenant. The Jasmine Dragon has been a pride of our Asian district for years now. No one makes tea like Iroh. You must try it."

"I'll make it my top priority, sir," mumbled Jee distractedly; he did not add "Right after finding a table near a going fan," which was in fact _the_ priority occupying his mind at the moment as he discreetly scanned the mercifully air-conditioned, ostentatiously Chinese interior.

This one time, luck seemed to be on his side; Headmaster Pakku was obviously entertaining similar thoughts and steered Jee in the direction of just such table, breaking teashop protocol and not waiting for a waiter to accompany them. The table-near-a-fan hunt successfully completed, Jee stretched his long legs discreetly under the table and squirmed in a way he hoped was unnoticeable, trying to find some comfort in his sweat-soaked attire. The older man paid him no heed, too busy craning his neck in search of something or someone.

"Sir?" Jee cleared his throat as politely as he could.

"Oh, no, it's nothing, I was just trying to find that old bugger Iroh… He's probably at the back, brewing away. Forgive me, Lieutenant. Old acquaintances and such. I'm sure we will be given the card in a moment… Ah. And here's the nephew."

Jee could not help but notice the way Pakku's already grumpy voice dropped even lower and quieter at this last sentence. And just as the words left his mouth, a shadow fell over their table and a voice said:

"Good morning, Headmaster."

Jee looked up.

Some foolish people would say that this was when Destiny happened. Jee though, whenever he thought back to that very first meeting, preferred to think this was when God (or whatever bugger there was up there) decided to screw him double-over. How else could one describe putting _this_ on his path – _this_ which would be the start of a whole other _this_; which was one of those _this_-es that left a man scarred and quivering and hugging an empty bottle of booze; which was, in a word, a catastrophe he really should have been smart enough to avoid?

There should have been _some_ warning at least, as Jee mused often in hindsight, especially in those grey hours of three o'clock in the morning in an empty apartment smelling of imminent hangover. _Something_. A tingling, a creepy sensation of foreboding dread, Spider Senses, a random thunder – _anything_. He wasn't picky about his omens. And he didn't even believe in omens.

But if anyone deserved a random thunder, it was definitely Zuko. _That_ boy deserved a fucking overture.

But there was no overture, no random thunder, no tingling Spider-Senses and certainly no other indications of imminent Doom other than the stifling, debilitating heat and the impression Zuko himself had made when Jee first set eyes on him.

And, well, as far as first impressions go, this one was pretty strong.

In the end, as he remembered with faint embarrassment, Jee did not manage to stop himself from gaping just a little. It wasn't as if he could help it. The young, black-haired waiter's appearance would catch anyone unawares. Especially with that scowl lurking very visibly on the surface, ready to break out in full at the slightest provocation.

Well. Um.

"Is your uncle at the back?" asked Pakku rather brusquely, sitting back and crossing his arms, not even attempting to smile at the young man.

The young man with the s – the scowl. Yes. A scowl. And not the scar. Not at all with a big, angry red burn scar stretching around his left eye all the way to his ear and occupying nearly half his face. No. Not at all.

Oh God.

As soon as he realized he was staring, Jee abruptly tore his gaze away from the scar, but the image stayed with him even as he fixed his gaze determinedly on the table.

"Yeah," murmured the boy, handing the two men the teashop cards adorned with elaborate paintbrush paintings of dragons and cherry blossoms. "Do you want me to tell him you're here?"

He had a strange sort of voice – raspy, as if continuously hoarse. But not only that. The words left his mouth in a comprehensible sentence all right, but they didn't seem quite natural, not entirely linked. Clipped, rather, forced, even gritted out. The very definition of unfriendly if anyone asked Jee, and not at all like a waiter was supposed to speak.

Even though his uncle owned this fragrant joint, if Jee read the implications correctly. Interesting.

"No, thank you, Zuko. I won't bother him while he's back there in his emporium. We'll both have the house special. What is it today?" asked the headmaster – and, as the boy's attention was momentarily focused on him, Jee risked a surreptitious glance.

Unruly black hair falling shaggily all over his face, probably so as to neutralize the scar somewhat. Pale. Tallish. Broad shoulders and chest. Asian features, quite handsome on the unscarred side. Wearing what seemed to be the teashop equivalent of a uniform – red and black traditional Asian robes with golden trimmings – though this one was probably the summer edition, with short sleeves, loose breeches and sandals. It looked so much more comfortable than what Jee was forced to wear and the Lieutenant felt a pang of envy.

Further furtive examination provided a more detailed analysis: back held rigidly straight. Entire posture stiff. Face muscles taut. An angry scowl lingering somewhere in there, as if barely contained and ready to be unleashed. Fingers clutching the order notebook as if holding on for dear life. The boy looked positively ready to spring, but whether at or away from someone, that much was unclear; and glancing at him, Jee realized with a sudden hollow feeling in his stomach that he had seen body language like that before.

In the navy.

Too intent on his surreptitious staring, the Lieutenant had, rather belatedly, realized that the sudden lull in conversation around him was a little suspicious. Turning his gaze on Pakku, he saw both the headmaster and the teen waiter looking at him expectantly, the former with a mild frown, the latter with something that might have been akin to curiosity had it not been for the scowl, which had by then floated very close to the surface.

"Excuse me," muttered Jee as politely as possible, clearing his throat, "I must have blacked out a little there. It's the heat."

Pakku's frown deepened a fraction as he held Jee's apologetic gaze, but then the older man shrugged and let it drop. "I was just saying, Lieutenant," he started, folding his hands on the table, "that Zuko here is probably going to be among your pupils this semester. He is about to begin his senior year in our high school. As I was saying, Zuko, this is Lieutenant Jee, our new gym teacher who will be filling in for Mr. Bracknell."

Oh. A student. Of course, this made perfect sense.

Having now obtained an official blessing to look the boy openly in the eye – and Jee was very careful not to look in the right eye only – the old sailor was struck by how… well, _striking_ Zuko's gaze was. Not only was the color rather extraordinary – very bright, nearly golden, who on earth really _had_ eyes golden like that? – but the intensity boiling there was positively scorching. And the kid wasn't even scowling anymore. Frowning, maybe, his mouth in a tight line, but without the hostility that Jee was half-expecting to see there, judging by the aggressive body language. No, the kid was just… assessing him, gauging him out, perhaps. Like any kid would with a new teacher. Seemingly nothing out of the ordinary.

But Jee had been the object of many such gazes in the past. He knew how to differentiate between them. And now that he had a little time to study this boy, he did fancy he saw something else in those eyes as well – something fleeting, flashing there for just an instant, like a spark. Genuine interest.

"Good to meet you, Zuko," he said, holding this arresting gaze with a smile that made its way to his face entirely unbidden. "Thinking of taking the gym this semester?"

"Yeah," admitted the kid with a slight nod. And did not elaborate.

"I hear Zuko is rather skilled in martial arts," intervened the headmaster before the halt in conversation turned into awkwardness. "That seems to be your field of expertise, isn't it, Lieutenant?"

"It is," agreed Jee, still holding eye-contact with Zuko; neither he nor the boy seemed, for some inexplicable reason, able to look away. "Which style?"

"Kung fu, Northern Shaolin," answered the boy, at once this time and with an unexpected flash of eagerness. Jee permitted himself to smile a little wider.

"Me too. I'm expecting to see you in my class then."

"Are you really a soldier?" blurted out Zuko abruptly, apparently completely oblivious to how rude it sounded; he just stood there, ignoring Pakku's severely disapproving frown, clutching his notebook and looking expectantly at Jee, the left side of his face fixed into a permanent glare, the right one displaying growing curiosity – at least, as far as Jee could tell.

Honestly, one could get cross-eyed trying to decipher that face, grotesquely lopsided as it was. With the left eye squinted like that. That burn looked really bad. The poor sod.

"The Navy," Jee allowed for the question without flinching. "Fifteen years of service."

To the boy's credit, he didn't ask "_Then what the hell are you doing _here_ teaching _gym_?_", but from the skeptical frown shadowing his face and the clearly disdainful look he cast around the place, it was clear that this was exactly what he had on the tip of his tongue.

"I have to go back to work now," announced Zuko instead after this short pause, turning to Pakku. "Double special blend, then. Right."

And, with a short, tight nod first to the headmaster and then with an even smaller one to Jee, the boy was gone. Jee found himself looking after his retreating back, absently stroking his right sideburn.

Well. That was definitely… curious.

It was only when Zuko silently hovered back to their table and put two steaming cups of tea before them that Jee realized what Pakku had ordered, and that no blessedly cold iced-tea was in store for him.

Keeping up his polite façade after that proved rather challenging indeed, but Jee managed somehow. It was, after all, a business meeting.

The interview was brief and to the point – as everything about the headmaster was. Just a formality, really, with the necessary exchange of remaining vital documents and useful tips as to the inner workings of the school, complete with quite a lot of dry sarcasm. Jee was rather pleasantly impressed. He found himself growing to appreciate Pakku's brisk and cynical manner – the latter especially being a quality which Jee himself did not lack. He could tell working with the man was going to be if not easy, then at least bearable. And the man did not ask too many probing questions, which was another huge point in his favor.

Of course, having a bearable boss was, on the whole, only a small blessing. But given everything that'd happened, Jee was ready to embrace even the tiniest blessings any given higher power was ready to throw his way.

He was that desperate.

"I will be quite frank with you, Lieutenant," Pakku leaned back in his chair, looking at Jee from above wiry arms crossed over his chest. "You will probably not enjoy yourself. No one is going to pretend otherwise. This is not a wealthy area. Though I do pride myself on being a resourceful man and we do manage to pull through passably each year, you will not find any glamour or happy pink feelings of self-fulfillment working here. I daresay it shall be quite the contrary. Now, though I must admit I _am_ rather curious, I did not inquire as to the reasons that have driven you here," the headmaster's dark forehead creased as the intensity of his gaze was turned up a notch, "nor am I going to. It is entirely your own business, as long as it was nothing illegal. I just want it to be clear that it's not going to be anything like the Navy. If anything, it might be harder."

Jee smirked and inclined his head to the headmaster, taking one final sip of the special house blend – which, admittedly, was oddly delicious despite the scorching heat and Jee's habitual dislike of tea.

"And I am _not_ expecting any glamour or happy pink feelings," he replied. "Which makes it a perfect arrangement."

"Indeed," Pakku permitted himself a smirk in response. "If you have no further questions for the time being, I believe it is time we request our bill. I have a couple of other staff appointments to get through today."

"Of course, sir."

Zuko appeared by their table not long after – a silent specter, his eyes firmly fixed on the china he was handling rather than on the customers, he nodded jerkily when Pakku asked for the bill and trod away just as silently as he came, posture stiff and rigid. Once again Jee found himself gazing after him.

"Curious boy, isn't he?" The headmaster was smirking openly now, watching Jee watching Zuko as the boy disappeared in the kitchen. Jee's head snapped back to him immediately.

"Oh, come now, Lieutenant," huffed the older man. "Nothing to get flustered about. That's how everyone reacts to him. He's been living here with Iroh for three years now and the community still hasn't gotten used to him. And vice-versa, I suppose."

"He lives with his uncle?" asked Jee, deciding he could risk questions now that the headmaster opened the subject himself. No harm in a little gossip, after all, was there?

"Yes. Three years now, like I said. Though from the way the boy carries himself, all up at arms against everyone, one could suppose he moved here only yesterday."

"Difficult one, is he?"

"Well," Pakku leaned forward in his chair again and rested his chin on interlaced fingers, "I wouldn't say _difficult,_ exactly. He has not caused any trouble beyond the ordinary, at least in the open. There was some… trouble right after he first arrived, but no bullying or vandalism, nothing of the sort. He does make it exceptionally hard to get through to him, though. Stubborn. Headstrong. Brash. Shouty. With personal boundaries stretching for about a mile. You'll probably see for yourself, Lieutenant. Martial arts is the only thing he's shown any remote interest in so far."

"Aren't I a lucky man, then," muttered Jee, scratching his cheek absently. And then, since his idle curiosity was being indulged anyway, he probed a little further. "And the scar, sir? How did that happen?"

"No idea," answered Pakku, his tone suddenly sharp, any shadows of the previous dry humor gone from his face. "His uncle never told me and I did not see it fit to ask. It has no impact on the boy's performance at school, so if he chooses to keep it to himself, so be it. The same thing goes for why he ended up here, away from his parents. Some educators find it prudent to know every little thing about their students, but I firmly believe that as long as there are no causes for alarm, we have no reasons to pry into their private affairs."

Jee hung his head, recognizing a scolding when he was being given one. "Apologies, sir. I will keep that in mind."

"Good. There are many rumors flying around about Zuko. If I were you, I wouldn't pay them any heed. But speaking of the devil…"

Jee was very careful not to look at the young man too intensively as he hovered by their table to leave the bill. But before the boy left, the Lieutenant found himself calling after him:

"See you in class, then!"

Zuko paused in his step then and slowly turned to look at Jee over his shoulder. Their eyes met and he nodded once, his features softening momentarily into an expression which could almost be mistaken for polite – and then he was off, striding quickly to another table to take the order.

Jee loitered a little, falling behind Pakku as the headmaster left, and then, on a sudden impulse, he left a big tip.

He didn't think of Zuko as a sexual creature then. No. The interest in the boy he found himself developing had been idle, a fleeting fascination, merely something curious to relieve the boredom of solitude, to focus his attention on for a few minutes so that he didn't have the think of anything else. That was all there was to it during that first meeting, with perhaps a tiny spark of potential that went largely unnoticed. Jee entertained idle speculations regarding Zuko for perhaps an hour after he returned to his cramped, messy, newly-rented apartment, and then he got himself busy with the final stage of unpacking and tidying up, doing as much as he could be bothered to do. No thoughts about the boy visited him all through the evening when he watched some television and went for a late walk to further explore his new, unimpressive neighborhood.

And if a fleeting image of an angry burn scar did come to haunt him again that night, it was just before he fell asleep, during this hazy stage between dream and reality when a man is drifting in a no-man's-land, ready to be pulled one way or the other.

And Jee had no reason to suspect that, back in his own room up above the teashop, Zuko was thinking of him.


	2. Chapter 1: Carving a niche

**Chapter 1**: _Carving a niche_

Jee was being honest when he told Headmaster Pakku he was not expecting any glamour. At 38, he suspected his glamour days were already behind him. Which is perhaps a sad conclusion to come to, but Jee was nothing if not a realist and the most recent events in his life did nothing to make him think otherwise. No. It was not glamour nor glory nor glitter he wanted now, nor anything else that started with "g" – what he wanted now was, mostly, to be left alone and perhaps to prove himself useful in some small way that would not involve any further disgrace or humiliation. Because God knew he had had his fair share of that.

Which is why he didn't pause or even falter in his stride as he entered the sports wing of Summerfield's Flowing Creek High School. It was, just as Pakku had warned him, definitely lacking in glamour. In fact, it looked pretty much like every default high school corridor, with sterile, polished floors, walls painted in neutrally cheerful colors and a row of trophies, doubtlessly meant to inspire school pride, locked behind a glass screaming success at every unfortunate passer-by.

His new job. Better get used to it.

"This is the swimming pool," announced Miss Fletcher, deputy headmistress, waving in the direction of an open door and demonstrating her ability to state the obvious. "Over here are the pool locker rooms. The gym proper is through here. The locker rooms of the football team are directly connected to the stadium. Right through here."

Jee followed the short, stout blond lady obediently, nodding along and making all the proper appreciative noises whenever necessary. It was a pretty standard layout, really, nothing out of the ordinary. Easy to find one's way about. Flowing Creek High School was not the biggest as far as high schools went and nowhere near as daunting as some of the schools Jee'd seen in his life, for all its aspiration to appear as one. Of course, Summerfield itself was not as affluent as to sustain exceptionally large schools, so Flowing Creek, probably best described as "average," fitted perfectly into the landscape, which, in Jee's humble opinion, should be photographed and put into a dictionary as _the_ perfect definition of "average."

The last on the list, after an exhaustive tour of all the sports facilities Flowing Creek had to offer, was his office. Or, rather, the office he shared with another gym teacher named Piandao, if the nameplate on the other desk was anything to go by. Another Asian, then. This community sure seemed strong around here…

But perhaps he should not be surprised. The town's Asian district _was_ uncommonly large – and by being so, it was probably the only thing that put Summerfield slightly above the "average" it had slumped to.

"Go on and make yourself comfortable," invited him Miss Fletcher, who was definitely not Asian. "This part of the room is all yours. You'll meet Mr. Piandao once the semester starts. He's a lovely man. I'm sure you'll get along like a house on fire."

"Thank you." Jee sat himself experimentally behind the desk and tried to adjust the revolving chair so that his knees wouldn't bump the surface every time he shifted position.

"Do you have any more questions?"

"None for the moment, no. You explained everything very well."

"I'm glad." Was it him, or did Miss Fletcher actually blush? "I'll be in my office if you need anything, Lieutenant."

After which off she trotted, her high heels clicking rhythmically and probably vibrating in echoes throughout the entire building, deserted for now as it was.

Jee sighed and took a look around.

Right. Right…

And then, without any pointless deliberation – because what good it would do him now that he was here, no good at all, might as well get on with things and deal with it head-on – he started making the little space his own.

:::::::::

He visited the school several more times before the semester started, both to finish arranging his stuff in the shared office and to familiarize himself with his new haven, its layout as well as its staff. In next to no time he had learned to recognize the faces of most of the teachers, the cleaning personnel and the administrators who happened to be in the building at the same time as he. Taking care to smile, stop by, introduce himself and chat a little, he was on friendly terms with the majority of them by his fourth visit. That was just how he rolled. Practical. No use being standoffish and even more of an alien than he already was. Jee believed in making the most out of every situation, no matter how miserable, and he could certainly use a friendly face or two. It might just relieve the boredom. Besides, he genuinely liked taking an interest in people and could not function very well without someone to joke and to banter with or – when the mood took him – to whine at. That was one of his more valuable skills back in the Navy, where he was directly responsible for dealing with recruits-freshly-turned-sailors and to serve as link between them and the higher officers.

Which worked very well up to a certain point. But there really was no use dwelling on it. What's done is done and all that…

So he strode through corridors, walking himself gradually into this world and taking mental notes of who was a good chat and whom better to steer away from, finding shortcuts, possible sanctuaries, marking where it was better never to venture again, trying to learn as many names and life stories as he could, and generally made himself as much a part of this new microcosm as possible. On the whole, the Flowing Creek veterans were friendly and curious, treating him as a sort of exotic, honorary mascot – "Oh look, Hester, we got ourselves a real soldier!" "Are you going to introduce morning drills, Lieutenant?" "Such a shame you can't wear your uniform to work, that'd impress the little demons for sure…" – and Jee smiled and went along with it, indulging in the harmless flirting or taking up the jokes, earning himself more points. Of course there were exceptions, people looking down on him, intimidated by him or just plain weirdoes, ever present in any academic institution, but those were easy enough to deal with or to simply avoid.

By the time the semester started and the corridors were no longer safe to stroll through on account of being thronged with noisy, spotty teenagers, he was as much a "one of us" and "a decent chap" as he would ever be.

He did manage to meet all of his fellow physical education colleagues before the first bell of the year split their ears. Piandao did prove himself a decent enough guy, sharp and pleasant if a tad too sophisticated for Jee's liking – they would probably get along pretty well and not murder each other after spending a lot of time together sharing one tight space. There was one other Asian coach, a pretty woman called Ming somewhere in her early thirties and endowed with the sort of sharp, sarcastic sense of humor that Jee very much enjoyed. Oddly enough, one of her jobs was coaching the cheerleaders – though as the Lieutenant grew to know her better, he started to think that perhaps it was a conscious choice and that maybe Ming had a masochistic streak to her and simply enjoyed having free food for her inner cynic served her on daily basis. Then there were Mike and Rob, the football and basketball coaches, both big, burly black men, the former having an air of a human-sized teddy bear until he got to the field, the latter wirier, skinnier and drier in general, a man of few words if Jee ever saw one. Martha, a muscular woman with visible traces of Mexican blood, somewhere in her forties and looking like everyone's favorite aunt in a tracksuit, instantly invited him over for dinner to meet her family, whereas Emily, fresh out of college and still a little unsure of her skills as an educator, shied away from Jee's attempts to strike a conversation, though she did smile and wished him a good year. And Judy with the slight squint, and Chris who spoke as loudly as most people shouted, and John, and Alice…

It was important to know people. To not be a stranger. To root himself and carve a nice little niche he could fit in. Even if he had to do it over and over again.

And while he worked on that, September loomed over his head, doing nothing to relieve the August heat – if anything, it strengthened it with the spirit of frantic preparations for what was to come. It was a busy period and Jee was glad for it. The schedules were prepared and distributed, the tasks assigned, the meetings held. The school was made ready for a fresh flood of teenage shenanigans.

And Jee, as he parked his old green Ford on his newly-given spot by the gym entrance on the first official day of classes, felt prepared to deal with whatever life threw at him this time.

After all, it wasn't the first school he would be working at, not the first organization in which he was a new face. It would be fine. As long as he wouldn't repeat past mistakes, it would be fine.

He would make it fine.

:::::::::

He saw Zuko The Teashop Waiter in the fifth period – the martial arts class for boys, obviously – until which point his day had been going as well as could be expected given the circumstances.

After three previous periods, during which he was forced to endure witless freshmen stumbling through an attempt to play volleyball, shout at languid juniors to make them start running and fight off flirty senior girls in their own martial arts class, he could bet he had already gotten himself a nasty nickname or five. None of the students apparently expected having a real class on the first day of school – well, tough luck. They just had to grit their teeth and endure, much like Jee himself had done. It was a good way of drawing himself a mental chart for each class and of identifying the types he had to deal with; those who took his classes for credits only and were terrified to death of everything carrying the faintest whiff of physical exertion were easy enough to pick out. Period one and two were full of those and Jee made a note not to exhort them _too_ brutally – he was not a sadist, after all. Period three, though, not so much, as it was an elective course and apparently filled with senior girls willing to be entertai- taught self-defense by a former Navy officer.

To be perfectly honest, Jee wasn't sure which was worse, though the attention of all those attractive young ladies _was_ rather flattering. And there were at least two or three girls who did show some promise and previous experience, plus they did not bat their eyelashes or giggle at him, so it was not a totally lost cause.

The vacant fourth period was a true relief after the morning ordeal and Jee welcomed it with open arms – though actually he would have welcomed it a lot more had he shared it with Piandao or Ming. Alas, he would have to make do without his colleagues – they both had classes then and he would just have to find away to entertain himself on his own for an hour.

If all his classes were to look like today, he might just use it to sleep.

However, he considered it pretty good going if he only felt the urge to throttle five students per class and did not come close to losing his cool even _once_, which was a new opening-day record for him. The rank of lieutenant probably helped. News travelled fast, especially in a town like Summerfield with precious little _apart_ from rumors to keep the locals entertained, and most of the time Jee found that the students approached him with varying degrees of respect, the timidly fearful type being predominant. The kids honestly did not know what to expect from him and some of them, he noted, were positively terrified, probably imagining he would introduce army drills and iron discipline complete with saluting. Jee was half-tempted to _really_ bring those in, just to live up to those expectations. Naturally, there were some more cheeky ones who seemed bent on testing him, seeing how much they could get away with, and those were dealt with in a very swift, military manner indeed – Jee hoped they would learn their lesson, but if they didn't, he saw no harm in making them do push-ups and shouting at them to hurry up for the entire hour until the end of term. It was really rather amusing.

With so many distractions around, it was no wonder that he had forgotten all about the moody waiter from the Jasmine Dragon, but when he did spot Zuko – hair just as shaggy as back in the teashop, wearing a loose, sleeveless red shirt and black sweatpants reaching to just below his knees – entering the classroom amidst other boys more or less his age, but keeping a visible distance from them and not joining any bawdy conversations, Jee found himself staring.

Pakku's words from that day floated, unbidden, to the front of his mind as he watched Zuko walk up to a wall and start stretching, resolutely ignoring his chattering classmates. _Difficult to get through to him. Personal boundaries stretching for about a mile. Stubborn. Brash. Shouty. _

Well. Jee had yet to see Zuko demonstrate the last three qualities, but the first two seemed definitely accurate. What's more, it looked like everyone here was used to this standoffish behavior – none of the boys walked up to Zuko to strike a conversation with him. Quite the opposite, they seemed to keep a conscious distance and did not even glance in his direction.

They did, however, glance at Jee, and more and more openly at that. Two minutes until the start of class. Right then. Time to get the fourth show of the day going.

He strode up to the middle of the dojo – or a wannabe one at least, with proper mats covering the floor, and it really said quite a lot about the area and headmaster Pakku that he chose to invest in having one – then crossed his arms over his chest, schooled his features into the bored, slightly disapproving frown he had perfected from his days in the Navy and waited for all of the boys to acknowledge his existence.

It didn't take long. The chattering gradually quieted and turned into murmurs, to settle at expectant silence as almost two dozen pairs of eyes were fixed on him. As he waited, Jee allowed himself a glance to the right and, very briefly, locked his gaze with Zuko's. The boy was staring at him very intently, his defiant posture mirroring Jee's, his eyebrows – or the one eyebrow he had left – furrowed into a mild frown that Jee was beginning to suspect was Zuko's default expression. He did not nod, smile or show any other indication that they had met before – and probably for the best, as Jee thought in retrospect. He just stood there, waited and… watched.

Which stirred a rather alarming urge in Jee to give him something _to_ watch. He stifled this traitorous little voice as soon as it dared hiss into his ear, fought the urge to stand up even straighter and stick his chest out, cursed his life and preferences twice over and abruptly cleared his throat, perhaps louder than he had to.

Some of the boys jumped a little at the sound and actually looked like they were about to salute. The majority, though, were eyeing him warily, with different expressions ranging from ostentatiously disinterested to flushed-cheeks-excited.

Jee took all of them in in one, broad sweep of his eyes and started the show.

"I bet you thought I was going to shout _Attention_," he said, his best Officer voice projecting with no effort at all in the spacious gym-turned-dojo. "And you know what? I just might. It all depends on you lot. We can have it the easy way or the hard way, and by hard I obviously mean hard for you. I may not have been planning on running you to the ground like they do in the good old Navy, but if you really want me to, then there's no problem at all and all the more fun for me. I don't know how Mr. Bracknell did things around here, but make no mistake in thinking that since I'm only filling in for him, I will let you lounge around and laze the hour away. I take my work seriously. Since you signed up for this course under no duress known to me, I'm assuming you're here because that's what you want. If anyone's not happy with that and would rather fill this hour with an elective that _will_ allow the lazing around, then by all means do so. If not, welcome and enjoy."

And here came the pause. Jee made sure to drag it out a little longer than was comfortable to let his point sink in, and used it to look into the eyes of every boy in the room. This was the fun part, seeing how each and every one reacted to his little speech, the one he gave in every class. And it really _was_ fun. The freshmen largely looked like they were about to cower; the juniors predominantly feigned disinterest to exaggerate their cool; the girls listened in rapt concentration, some of them smiling, probably to showcase their eagerness. Those boys seemed to be divided into two types – the ones who really were expecting a relaxing hour with nothing much to do and were in all likelihood already considering signing up for a different class, and those who nodded along, clearly satisfied and nearly smiling.

A quick look at Zuko placed the boy in the second category, though not quite – the boy was not really smiling, but _smirking_, and not in a pleased sort of way. He looked rather as if he found something grimly amusing about this whole situation, a joke that nobody else saw. He was also still unabashedly staring right at Jee.

Almost as if he was trying to draw his teacher's gaze. Or maybe it was simply Jee's misbehaving imagination turning itself on again, in the least appropriate moment as usual.

"You may have heard about me already," Jee picked up, folding his hands behind his back to better project authority, and took a few steps first to the left, then to the right. "My name is Jee Heng. I used to be lieutenant in our proud country's Navy, where I served for fifteen years. For a while I used to serve as RDC at boot camp. I have been learning various methods of self-defense long before you came screaming and bawling from your mothers' bellies. Kung fu mainly, but some of the other styles as well. This is what we'll be doing here, but since it's a level 2 class, I'm assuming you already know that. Any questions so far? And before you go there, let me tell you straight away that I came to teach here because I wanted to and let's leave the personal investigation at that. Yes? Your name, boy?"

The lad who lifted his hand was rather scrawny and had definitely the slightest build out of all the seniors present; he also had dark, brown skin, a pair of narrow, slightly slanted blue eyes and both sides of his head were shaved, with a mohawk-like ponytail at the center. He was grinning, and very openly so. He seemed to have the sort of face _designed _for exaggerated facial gymnastics.

"Sokka, sir," he introduced himself, and as soon as he said it Jee thought that he really did have something of an Indian about him to suit the unusual name. Coming to think of it, he looked rather like two of the girls from third period. Family? "I have a question," continued the boy called Sokka in a decidedly hopeful voice. "Are you going to scream and spit at us and call us lazy mother-botherers and make us chant while we run around in circles?"

Some of the boys snickered at that. Jee was very careful not to. He lifted one eyebrow instead, very slowly, which only made the snickering stronger. "Would you like me to?" he asked with his best serious voice, which had a devastating effect on the student morale – some of the boys actually turned around and covered their mouths with their hands. Sokka nodded very eagerly, his eyes huge and glistening, looking for all intents and purposes like it was Christmas.

"Then I am sorry to disappoint you, Sokka," said the Lieutenant, and meant it. "You see, that would constitute verbal abuse, which is illegal. They really do come down on that sort of thing here, amazingly, not like in our dear old Navy. Much as I would like to indulge both of us, I fear headmaster Pakku would not be very impressed with me insulting students and spitting at them. Any more questions?"

"What are we supposed to call you?" This one did not raise his hand; he stood there in a defensive position, arms crossed over his chest and hair laden with atrocious amounts of product covering half his face.

Jee opened his mouth to reply, but Sokka beat him to it.

"Can we call you 'lieutenant', Lieutenant? Or 'sir'? _Please_?"

"Yeah," piped in some other boy who was more than double Sokka's size in muscles – Christ, what _were_ people feeding their kids nowadays, steroids with a sprinkling of veggies? – his black hair carefully greased and arranged, big green eyes shining imploringly. "That'd be totally awesome." A chorus of murmurs in the affirmative confirmed this to be the general opinion of the class.

Jee permitted himself a fraction of a smirk. "Glad to see some of us are enjoying ourselves," he murmured. "Right. You want the Navy, you're gonna get the Navy. Attention! Nobody move while I take attendance!"

As he called out the names on the list, his best Officer voice in full action, he couldn't help the smirk becoming just a tad more visible. Oh yes, he did enjoy this. Hearing the students respond like they imagined soldiers did, sticking their chests out and obviously having fun with the play-pretend, why, it almost brought some of his old sense of authority back. A poor imitation of it for sure, but still.

And this lot were almost adults. Perhaps he could push them just this little bit harder. While they still wanted to and thought it was cool – which would last for about five minutes.

Tops.

When he read out Zuko's name, he looked up at the boy almost unwittingly. The teenage waiter did not move nor change his expression all this time – which meant he was _still_ staring. Jee held his gaze for perhaps a split second longer than was entirely comfortable, feeling his throat suddenly go a little drier.

Which wasn't a reaction he should be having because a teenager chose to gape at him. But Zuko's gaze was _different _– and not only because of the scar disfiguring his left eye and giving his expression the element of grotesque. This gaze felt like it could burn.

This kid clearly _wanted_ something from him. He was deliberately not looking away. And it was… odd.

But not to be contemplated now. Jee had a class to teach.

All through the warm up he kept catching Zuko in the act of glancing at him, though, and from the looks of it, the boy wasn't even trying to hide it. Jee ignored it as best he could and concentrated on barking out order after order – and Sokka especially clearly found it hilarious – but he did find himself following the lad with his eyes with alarming frequency. If Zuko's silent staring trick was indeed supposed to win him Jee's attention, it was obviously working.

And, as Jee noted with a slight tinge of alarm, it didn't take all that much to pay attention to Zuko.

The sleeveless shirt. That had to be it. It left the boy so… exposed. His arms bare, his shoulders flexing, the skin on his sculpted biceps taut, the muscles of his chest outlined through the material… Exposed. Yeah. Enough so to blatantly showcase the fact that there was very little of a boy about Zuko's body, which was… not a good thing at all.

Jee _really_ had to concentrate.

It wasn't even the kid's body itself. In this class alone there were boys with at least as much muscle – like that enormous green-eyed kid with hair that looked as if a duck was perched on his head. Jee enjoyed the view, but God knew he'd seen enough of gorgeous young bodies not to be affected by them, especially not to the point where it got disturbing.

But he _was_ looking at Zuko in that way now, God help him. And noticing… things. Like the fact that somehow, the teashop boy's figure was _just_ the type Jee liked best. Lean and agile and flexible and packed with firm muscle and _shit, he really needed to stop now_.

And all of that because the brat just _would not stop staring_.

It was all right, though, Jee told himself firmly, putting a definite halt to the protracted warm-up and pairing the boys up with each other. Just ignore it and it would go away. Ignore _him_ and maybe he'll stop with the staring. The lieutenant promised himself he wouldn't get into any messes like that again and he was going to _stick_ to it, dammit.

Zuko probably didn't even realize his staring made Jee uncomfortable. However difficult _that_ was to believe when one looked into those disturbingly bright eyes and saw the intent behind the gaze.

"All right, you lazy lily-livers," he said out loud, very deliberately not looking at Zuko. "Show me what you can do. I'm assuming you at least know the basics of self-defense if you chose a level2 course, so let's see it. You'll beat each other up in a nice, civilized, government-approved manner and I'll be strolling among you to see what you're doing wrong. Begin."

It wasn't quite the sorry display Jee had been dreading, at least. More than half of the boys appeared to know what they were doing and quite a few of them displayed some sort of technique. This meant they wouldn't have to start from scratch, which was refreshing. In the end no one ended up with black eyes or broken limbs and, as far as first classes went, that was a pretty decent tally.

The mock duels also meant that Zuko was too preoccupied to continue with his staring, but Jee caught himself looking in his direction anyway, more often than was necessary for mere ability assessment. But not because of the boy's looks this time.

Well, not _entirely_, anyway.

Again, Pakku's words echoed in the lieutenant's mind as he watched Zuko attack, displaying a fury and intensity so condensed, so _concentrated_, that it really was rather frightening. It certainly frightened Zuko's partner, a tan, thuggish-looking tall fellow named Chan, who looked a little too old to still be in high school – the boy was valiantly trying to hide it and appear manly, but it was clear he wanted to be as far away from Zuko and his viper-quick, skillful strikes and kicks as humanly possible.

_Martial arts is the only thing he's shown any remote interest in so far._

Another masterful observation on the part of headmaster Pakku. Watching the little demon fight, one would think that it was the only time he really came alive. It was as if he had those massive reserves of anger – or even fury – boiling and brewing underneath, just waiting to be given an outlet, and then they not so much guided his body as completely took it over. And he was _good_ at it, too good for a measly high school course, even a level 2 one.

Jee recognized the feeling behind those jabs. He had experienced a similar urge himself way too often. But not usually to this extent and not all the time – whereas Zuko looked as if this was how he went about fighting every day. Now Jee remembered the look of fleeting horror and distaste on Chan's face when the kid ended up paired with Zuko – so the other boys knew how their friend was. It was a normal thing.

This spelled Looming Trouble in capital letters if he ever saw it.

Jee was looking their way when he called an end to the day's class, so he did not miss the way Chan shoved roughly past Zuko and flashed him a look of pure hate, mouthing something which was probably very far from pleasant. Zuko glared at him, fists tightening, and Chan scurried off in double hurry, joining his friends at the already-congested entrance to the gym. Jee thought he heard the words "freak" and "angry jerk," but he couldn't be sure.

A glance back at Zuko told him this was not the end of the day's excitement.

The boy was standing very still, not moving towards the entrance at all, fists still clenched and _staring_ at Jee again.

The older man sighed. "Yes?" he asked, hands resting on his hips as he faced Zuko fully. "You want something, kid?"

"Why did you do it?"

Zuko's voice was low and soft, raspy, cracking a little with unuse. It was upon hearing it, for the first time since the teashop, that Jee realized Zuko hadn't said a single word for the entire class.

The question earned the kid a raised eyebrow from Jee. "I'm paid to do it," he replied in deadpan. "That's what people call a job."

"I mean the twenty bucks," clarified the boy, coming a little closer and – Jee was rather pleased to notice – losing the defensive stance a fraction. His fingers unclenched and his arms hung comparatively loosely by his sides as the boy plowed on in this same soft voice: "You left twenty bucks on the table. It sure as hell wasn't Pakku, he never tips me this much. _No one_ tips me this much. Not even the stupid girls who giggle at me when I serve them. Why did you do it?"

Ah. That one. Jee had rather forgotten about it. And he sure did not expect Zuko to call him up on that. Honestly, what kid would?

The boy chose to interpret the brief silence in his own way, shuffling from foot to foot, looking at Jee quite challengingly. "Because if you didn't mean to leave that much, I'll give it back. I have the money here. I didn't spend it. Do you want it back?"

"What? No!" Now this was ridiculous. Was _that_ what all the staring was about? "Keep it. I don't know why I tipped you so much, maybe I was just feeling generous. It's called an impulse, kid. People have those sometimes. Anyway, it's your money. Go buy yourself a DVD or something."

And with that, Jee made to turn away and head for the office, when Zuko's voice, no longer soft, but suddenly clipped and strangely tight, stopped him.

"I don't want your pity."

The older man looked around to face Zuko again, incredulous. The defensive stance was back on, the scowl reigning supreme on the boy's face. The scar only made it all the more predatory, even nasty.

This really was ridiculous.

"What pity?" asked Jee slowly, examining the boy. "Who said anything about it?"

"Because of my face. You saw it and felt bad for me, so you left me the money. I don't want any of that. If that's the case then you can shove it."

Oh for heaven's sake.

"First off," Jee started firmly after rolling his eyes, "I am your teacher. You don't get to speak to me like that just as you don't get to call headmaster Pakku by his name. I'll let it slide for now because you're all worked up and didn't control yourself, but this is the first _and_ the last time this happens. Is that clear?"

In response Zuko folded his hands across his chest and stuck his chin up. There was challenge written all over his face. Too bad this was a game Jee was not willing to play.

"Secondly, you're making no sense," he continued, matching Zuko glare for glare. "This idea is ridiculous. No pity was involved at any time. I gave you the twenty bucks because I felt like it and I liked my tea. That's all there was to it. Now, since we had it all cleared up, run along to the showers or you'll be late for your next class, whatever that is."

Zuko held his gaze for protracted seconds, searching, searing, scorching. Jee never looked away. If the brat thought he could out-stare him, he was in for a nasty surprise.

The glaring contest lasted for about a minute until Zuko decided the battle probably wasn't worth it, at which point he huffed and walked past Jee to the locker rooms, his stride barely short of a stomp. When he was just by the entrance to the gym, Jee felt another impulse – spite? sudden rush of benevolence? and if the latter, he probably should really stop and analyze where all those benevolent impulses directed at Zuko came from – and acted upon it without much thinking. He called out:

"Oh, and Zuko!"

The boy stopped in mid-stomp, but didn't look around.

"That was some pretty impressive work out there. Nice moves."

Zuko stood in the doorway for a few seconds – but ultimately, he left without looking back.

Shutting the door with a dramatic bang was the only thing lacking in this situation, really. Marvelous.

His last class for the day – a basic level martial arts elective with a mix of students from all years – was a relaxing breeze-through compared to all that.

::::::::

Ming walked with him to the parking lot and complained at length about her cheerleaders. Apparently none of them as much as sniffed a pom-pom during the summer holidays and the try-outs were going to be _such_ a pain and the championships were going to be extra hard and life basically sucked giant ass balls this year. She said it all while laughing all the time, so Jee did not take it seriously. Ming had so much genuine _warmth_ in her that it was hard to take seriously _any_ negative thing she said, no matter how grumbly she made it sound.

It was good having someone like that around. And she had a nice voice.

"Good job out there by the way, soldier boy," she exclaimed, browsing through her purse in search of car keys. "Nice work with the kids."

Jee chuckled, opening his own car – which looked a little modest compared to Ming's gaudy red Mercedes, not that Jee would ever admit it. "How do you know how I did? I don't recall having you in any of my classes."

"I spied on you," admitted the woman easily, beaming. "Emily and I both, actually. I daresay she was really inspired."

"Well, good to know someone was. See you tomorrow, then?"

"Actually," Ming paused in the middle of opening her driver's door, "I do have one more thing to talk to you about. Do you have a moment?"

"Sure," slightly bemused, but also pleased, Jee leaned back on his Ford and waited.

"Charlie Bracknell was a real enthusiast of the martial arts too," started the woman. "A great educator at that. It's really too bad about his knee. Anyway, he used to run this club after class, here in the school, for the more advanced kids. They loved it. He had quite a turn-up each year. I was thinking it would be great if someone could take it up. I would, but I only know the basics and I already run a couple of other things here after class, so, you know…"

Jee nodded, thinking. "Have you spoken to anyone else about it? Piandao?"

"Yeah. And he's willing to work on that, but he's busy too. If you'd be game, then the two of you could work out a schedule between you or something… But do you even want to?"

That was a good question. _Did_ he want to?

But then, why the hell not? If he'd get paid extra for it…

"I'll think about it," he promised Ming with a smile.

"Great," the other educator flashed him a brilliant grin. "Let me know so we can go and talk to Pakku about it. I'm sure he'll approve. See you, then."

"Yeah. Bye."

Despite all its apparent drawbacks, the chief one being Spending More Time Among Teenagers, it had seemed like a decent idea at the time. Which is precisely why the alarm bells should have gone off in Jee's head the very moment he thought that. He knew enough about seemingly good ideas – namely, he knew that more often than not, "seeming" was the only thing they were.

But the alarm bells did not go off, or at least not loudly enough to mute the other voice in his head which said: _extra cash_. Besides, he didn't have anything better to do with his evenings anyway, at least for now. Why not give it a try? Once or twice a week was not that much of a sacrifice. And it would be an advanced class, for people who really wanted to be there. Committed people he could shout at to his heart's content without fearing a law suit for verbal abuse.

Shouldn't really be that bad, should it?

Of course not.

Which only goes to show that Jee really ought to be preserved for posterity as a living testament to the truth of Murphy's Laws.

* * *

**A/N**: Next time: Ming's plan is set in motion, Piandao gets some lines, Jee is forced to endure tea again and everyone's favorite Uncle makes an appearance.

Now for a little bonus: everyone who gets ALL the cameos in this chapter gets to prompt me with a scene for the story! Who's excited?


	3. Chapter 2: Of Uncles and Swordmasters

**A/N**: Filler filler filler filler... Sorry, guys, but it has to be done. Some swearing in this one. Also, I should probably point out here that I have NO Navy experience whatsoever and everything I know about it comes from my Internet research, so apologies for any inacurracies in this chapter and the entire story. Same thing goes for martial arts classes - my only experience of those comes from my brief flirtation with Aikido, which only lasted a month.

* * *

Ming was right. Pakku did approve. Such profound was Pakku's approval, in fact, that he deemed it appropriate to begin the sign-ups immediately so that the club could phoenix its way out of the ashes as quickly as possible.

Which, in Headmaster language, apparently meant _this week_.

"What was the turn-up last year?" asked Jee, sticking the sign-up sheet on the notice board by Pakku's office on Tuesday of the second week of school.

Piandao, who held the pins and handed them to Jee, considered the question with slightly creased eyebrows. "About twenty people, maybe less," he said. "The meetings were twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays. Would this work for you?"

"Yeah," Jee murmured as the two men made their way back to the gym area. "I'm still settling in. Nothing better to do with my evenings. You?"

"Mondays suit me better," admitted Piandao. "I run a weapons course in the martial arts school downtown on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"Thursdays are mine, then," Jee nodded. "You people are so busy around here. Everyone seems to be working extra after classes."

Piandao smiled at this. "Surely not everyone, Lieutenant," he amended in his typical, elevated voice that Jee could only call inspired. "It is true that some of us are more committed to our work than it is necessary, but I myself have always seen it simply as an extension of my vocation. Teaching swordsmanship brings me equally as much joy as swordsmanship itself, if not more. There is nothing quite like seeing a student take wing thanks to your teachings and influence. I'm sure you'll agree."

Ha. There was no way Jee could respond to that with a straight face.

So he simply nodded, saving the comments which immediately sprang to his mind to himself, and busied himself with looking at the passing students. This was precisely why it was difficult to talk to Piandao sometimes. The way the man talked about things, it was downright impossible to add anything that wouldn't sound snarky or sarcastic. And somehow, that didn't work with him. He _had_ a sense of humor, yes, but being sarcastic on him when the man was so genuine and earnest about the things important to him, in this simple, disarming way, seemed unfair and wrong. And, oddly enough, Jee liked him, even with this elevated, inspired air surrounding the other man – partly because of this earnestness and simplicity of his readily shared beliefs and partly, perhaps, because he put Jee's own life and beliefs in sharp contrast, which in turn automatically commanded respect. Jee was not averse to those obviously better than him – in his own opinion, it didn't take all that much.

There were some people like Piandao in the Navy – now probably more of them, it being an era of well-intentioned volunteers. Honorable. Honest. _Keen_. Full of faith and with this inner goodness shining forth on the world like a fucking sun. Even in Jee's own division back in basic there were boys like that, wet behind the ears idealists who didn't know any better until they had their asses served to them by the RDC's. Jee could only look on them with pity. Not many of them survived boot camp, but those that did often climbed the hierarchy ladder pretty quickly. Keenness, after all, was easy to manage.

Which is probably why Jee's own career was decidedly less than stellar.

Not that something like that would ever happen to Piandao. For all his talk, the guy was tough as nails. Jee did not know him that well yet, but it was easy to see. The lieutenant peeked in on one of Piandao's classes once during his own free fourth period and was really quite impressed.

"We will have to work out a plan of some sort," continued the swordsman – and yes, it _was_ fitting to think of Piandao this way. The way the man carried himself, it was easier to picture him in a traditional Chinese getup than in a tux. It didn't help that he was sporting a real topknot. "Unless you want to make the two meetings disconnected from one another?"

Jee gave this due consideration as they made their way through increasingly crowded school corridors, nodding to a familiar face of a student here and there.

"There should be some continuity, if only for the kids," decided the lieutenant. "We need some time to think this through. Let me know when you have a moment."

"How about Friday after class?" suggested Piandao. "We should have a decent estimation of how many students are interested by then. This ought to make things easier."

Jee agreed.

They were nearly in the sports wing when Zuko passed them. Head bowed low, hair cascading in chaotic wisps all over his face, backpack hanging loosely from one arm, he kept staring at the floor and offered the teachers an almost imperceptible nod. He did flash a quick, surreptitious look at Jee from under the curtain of his hair, so lightning-quick it would have been missed if not anticipated, and then he was gone, shuffling to whatever class he had in first period, never stopping to speak to anyone and glaring resolutely at the floor.

Jee knew this was the case without even looking over his shoulder after the boy. This had become a routine.

It has to be said that the disturbing staring stopped after their first confrontation over the unfortunate tip. During the two days that followed, Zuko seemed to adopt an entirely contrasting approach – he determinedly acted as though Jee was just a faceless, disembodied voice of authority. He obeyed like a slave of a plantation might have obeyed during his first years of captivity; grudgingly, in absolute silence, with every muscle in his body singing of tension, not once looking Jee in the eyes. A less observant – and wiser – man would have dismissed him then and focused on the more responsive students, allowing Zuko to sulk in peace. As long as the brat didn't outright rebel or cause trouble, who cared? But one of Jee's curses was that he _was_ observant, so he did not miss the way those golden eyes did glance to him from time to time, sneakily and fleetingly, like a wild forest animal, if Zuko thought no one was looking. Those glances were too quick to decipher, but they were undoubtedly _there_ and left the lieutenant rather baffled.

By the end of the week the sulking lost some of its intensity. Zuko started looking Jee openly in the eye again and stopped radiating the impression that he was one misjudged word away from beating someone up – or at least he was radiating this noticeably less when addressing his teacher if not his classmates, with whom he remained on obviously hostile terms. Still, he would keep stealing those inconspicuous glances at his teacher when he thought himself safe and undetected.

Jee knew. Mostly because he himself did his own fair share of inconspicuous glancing.

It's not like it was his fault here, really. No one in his right mind could blame him. Zuko's odd behavior attracted attention just as much as his fine, young body did, if not more so. Anyone would at least be intrigued. There was something very strange about this boy, very unique, which, repelling though it was, made him a natural object of study.

Curious if the kid behaved this way in all of his classes. No wonder the people of Summerfield found it hard to take to him – Zuko made it impossible.

He didn't _want_ to fit in.

Maybe this is where his attention towards Jee came from: they were both outsiders. Perhaps Zuko was looking to him as someone to potentially connect with over this. Perhaps he was checking how Jee got on and whether or not they could find a common ground. Maybe he wanted to start a two-people Summerfield Sucks Club. But that was only a wild guess, with no way to check its plausibility.

"There goes one of our potential students," observed Piandao with a surprisingly fond smile, gazing after Zuko as the boy passed them. Jee, having been brought back to earth from his reverie, looked at him, puzzled. "Zuko Xi attended Mr. Bracknell's classes most religiously," clarified his companion. "Charlie praised his skill quite often… nearly as often as he complained about the boy's attitude. I have seen him in action myself a few times. Most impressive. Of course, I had the opportunity to teach him some swordplay myself…"

"You teach him the sword?" cut in Jee before he could stop himself. Piandao didn't seem to mind; his smile continued to be warm, but now gained a tinge of sadness as he watched the sulky object of their conversation turn a corner and disappear.

"Yes, used to," he replied. "Dao blades. He has a great facility for them. Unfortunately, though, we only had a few classes together before he stopped coming. Told me it was due to financial reasons, but personally I find this hard to believe. I pride myself on being great friends with his uncle and I know full well how much Iroh loves his nephew. He would never refuse the boy anything which made him happy. There must have been something else, something Iroh thought fit not to divulge."

Jee's brow furrowed at that. "But he still learned martial arts?"

"Oh yes. As I said, most religiously. I suspect this is the only true passion the poor boy has. You must have observed this, Lieutenant."

"Yes. I have," murmured Jee, frowning at the floor.

This seemed like a good moment to inquire a little further; but before he made up his mind and phrased the question he wanted to ask, they reached their shared office and Piandao left to prepare himself for the first class of the day. The moment was gone.

Oh well. There were bound to be other opportunities. And maybe then he could ask about the uncle, too – the man seemed to be quite the celebrity around here.

When during fourth period Jee sauntered over to check the sign-up sheet, he almost whistled in admiration for Piandao's prophetic streak; it looked like he would have more opportunities to study Zuko up-close. His name was the first on the list.

::::::::

The teashop again. Really, what was it with the people of Summerfield and this bloody teashop? Surely the town had other places to socialize in. It had a population of over 160,000, for God's sake, and no teashop could ever hold that many. There was the bowling alley, for example. Or the pubs. A wide variety of them, actually. Yes. A pub would have been a much more welcome venue under any circumstances, especially as the weather didn't seem to be getting any cooler.

Honestly, since when _did_ Michigan have weather like that? They definitely had a shortage of it back in the days of Jee's basic, when the RDC's shouted them up in the middle of the night for Snow Watches to freeze their balls of while pitifully trying to rid the Great Lakes of the fucking white fluff. Even during Jee's own brief time as a RDC it wasn't this hot, ever.

On this note, it still felt strange to be this close to Great Lakes again. Sure, they were in different states and separated by the entire width of Lake Michigan and it would probably be more than eight hours to drive there, but this was still the closest he'd been to RTC since his – resignation. Not that Jee missed the thrice-accursed boot camp, but ever since he had arrived in Summerfield, he had those… urges attacking him from time to time: the urge to gear up, get in the car and drive the distance to the base, just to see what it looked like now, how things had changed.

From the outside, of course. They probably wouldn't let him in now.

"Have you been here before, Lieutenant?" asked Piandao as a pretty young waitress with her long hair braided and her considerable boobs nicely outlined through her Asian uniform guided them to a table by the window.

Jee stifled the urge to stop the man from calling him that. He had tried to several times already and it still hadn't sunk in. People probably just liked addressing him as "lieutenant", he figured. However one looked at it, it sounded… proud.

He also stifled a snarky remark about teashops and headmaster Pakku, settling instead for a short, if telling, "Once. With the headmaster."

"Ah yes," Piandao smiled. "He is of course another friend of Iroh's, whom I do hope to introduce to you today."

"Well, can't say I'm not intrigued," smiled Jee. This, in fact, was true. He _was_ intrigued by the Mystery Uncle. Apart from the fact that everyone in the area seemed to be friends with him, anyone who could live with Zuko and the brat's relentless sulking and _still_ love him was a remarkable person and probably a superhero.

Speaking of the brat…

A quick scan of the teashop, however, declared it to be Zuko-less. Jee wasn't entirely sure how he felt about this.

At least there wouldn't be any more tip-related shenanigans.

Piandao took it upon himself to order, as a seasoned Jasmine Dragon patron paving the way for the unenlightened. He came up with a blend Jee hadn't even known existed, but before the pretty waitress could hurry away, he added:

"Could you please ask Iroh if he could spare a moment for a friend? My name is Piandao."

"Of course, sir!" chirped the girl and trotted away in her kimono, or whatever it was the staff here was forced to wear.

"So," Piandao turned to Jee, "Shall we begin while we wait?"

"The sooner we start, the sooner we finish" was Jee's professional opinion as he rummaged in his bag for something to take notes.

"A most practical approach, Lieutenant. Let us perhaps first look at the notes from Mr. Bracknell…"

They were halfway through those when the waitress brought their order and a quiet message that "Mr. Iroh will come over as soon as he's finished brewing." Which, as it happened, turned out to be precisely when an acceptable and work-able plan for the after-classes seemed finally to have started emerging from the two teachers' discussion. Jee felt a presence approaching before he even saw the bulky figure of the owner making his way towards their table, and he paused in his note-taking to glance up at the newcomer.

"Piandao, my friend!" exclaimed the old man, clasping hands with Jee's smiling colleague. "I was wondering when you'd come and visit. About time! I was in dire need of someone to consult the date for our first game of the season with!"

"I trust you fully on this matter," Piandao rose from his seat to great his friend. "I'm sure we will all be able to attend whichever date you set."

The other man laughed – a full, rich, vibrating laugh coming straight from his ample belly, and patted Piandao on the shoulder in a way which spoke volumes about easy camaraderie. And Jee watched him, intently studying the short, round old man with a face wrinkled like an apple left in the sun for too long and facial hair which could put even the great Rear Admiral "Sideburns" Zhao to shame, and with an air around him which spoke of crackling fires and surprise candy and long bedtime stories and proverbs and wisdom and warmth and everybody's favorite Grandpa. And he thought: _Oh_.

"Iroh, this is Lieutenant Jee," said Piadnao in the meantime, effectively turning the uncle's attention to Jee. The owner positively beamed and the lieutenant thought fleetingly that this was probably the warmest, most sincere smile he had ever seen.

"Oh, of course!" the man reached out to clasp Jee's hand in a vigorous shake. "Zuko's new gym teacher! My nephew told me all about you! He is really impressed by you, Lieutenant."

… What?

"Is that so," murmured Jee cautiously, _quite_ taken aback by this revelation. "Enthusiastic about the class, was he?"

"Most enthusiastic," assured him the uncle, still shaking Jee's hand as though there could never be a greater privilege. "In his own way, of course. I'm sure you know what I mean, Lieutenant."

Jee settled on nodding, trying to wrap his head around how anything about "Zuko's own way" could ever be interpreted as enthusiastic. Whatever _did_ the brat say about him to give his uncle such an impression?

Unless it was just a common nicety, a white lie, something to say. Probably. This man, Iroh, looked like a type to pour out effortless niceties as easily as most Navy officers poured out effortless swearing.

So Jee decided to settle for a simple "Thank you, sir" and tried to cover the surprise which must have shown on his face with a firm handshake. He was rewarded with an even larger grin and a fussy "Oh, but where are my manners, please excuse an old man, Lieutenant! Call me Iroh."

"A pleasure," mumbled Jee, finding himself suddenly a bit overwhelmed.

Well, whatdya know, there _was_ something in common between the uncle and the nephew after all: both had the indisputable ability to impose themselves on any given situation and make it so that everything became a background to them. Though admittedly this old man here did this in a different way than Zuko altogether.

This feeling, instead of diminishing, only grew when the owner of the Jasmine Dragon absolutely insisted that they take their tea in a private little parlor at the back, where they could have some privacy. To his growing alarm, Jee found he had very little to say on the matter and was soon being practically maneuvered in the direction of the kitchen, Iroh leading the way and carrying their teas on a tray. And all this time, he would not stop _talking_.

"I trust you were well-received at the school, Lieutenant," he prattled on good-naturedly, showing them through the busy kitchen positively bustling with activity and smelling so strongly of tea Jee almost felt his eyes water. "I find the staff there to be very engaging. Of course Headmaster Pakku himself is a member of our little Pai Sho community, as are some of the other teachers... You don't play yourself, by any chance, do you, Lieutenant?"

"What…? Oh, no, no I don't," murmured Jee, trying not to show his puzzlement and biting his tongue before he babbled "_What the fuck is Pai Sho?"_.

Zuko was not in the kitchen either. Which Jee noticed purely incidentally, of course, while they were passing through. It was not as if he was _looking_ for the brat. Heaven forbid.

They ended up doing a little tour of the backstage area of the teashop – which must have been purely for Jee's benefit, as Piandao acted perfectly at home – during which Iroh boasted good-naturedly of his little empire. Jee tried to follow the conversation and make some sort of contribution, but most of the time he simply nodded along and made appreciative noises. There was really very little he could add, his previous experiences with tea being limited mostly to the cheap Lipton bags from Walmart. Admitting this here would probably win him a Glare and a future ban.

It didn't help that every time they entered a new area, Jee automatically found himself scanning it for the shaggy mop of black hair and the angry red of the facial burn. It was an instinct, really, and he could not turn it off now anymore than he could stop breathing.

But the teashop tour was concluded without any apparition by Zuko whatsoever, and when the three men finally sat down in Iroh's private parlor with fresh, steaming cups of fragrant this-or-other, Jee resolved to commit himself more to the conversation. Clearly being a friend of Iroh's held a lot of weight around here and he could use this sort of association – just in case.

Besides, the old man might just let slip something about his nephew. Like the hallowed secret of coping with his bratty ways.

In fact, the more Jee looked at the old teashop owner, the stronger he felt that Iroh's face seemed somewhat familiar. He couldn't quite place it anymore than he could hold water in his hands, but the nagging sensation was there and getting more audible with every passing minute he spent in the other man's company.

_Strange_.

But just when Jee was beginning to really try and investigate this feeling, Iroh steered the conversation in the direction of the Navy; and that was when things got _really_ interesting, albeit a little weird. Very few civilians, if any, seemed to really know what they were talking about when approaching this subject, but after only a few minutes of conversation Jee was dead sure Iroh _did_ know. He referred to all the higher officers by their names, asked after this or that old friend in the military, inquired after the recent changes in training techniques – hell, he even talked the slang! Now Jee was really, really curious. There was no way Iroh could be so well-acquainted with this topic if he hadn't had _some_ connections.

It was quite irritating, therefore, that, after Jee asked him about it, Iroh simply waved dismissively as though swatting away a fly. "Old times," he said, taking a sip of his tea. "From when I was quite a different man. I don't want to bore you with an old man's sob story."

"But I'm sure it wouldn't be boring at all, in fa -"

It seemed, however, that fate did not want Jee to finish that sentence, as in that precise moment the sliding, paper door to the parlor slid to the side, revealing a casually clad Zuko.

"Uncle, I'll be going out to ride my bike for a while, I - Oh."

The young man's eyes rested first on his uncle and only then on his guests – and he seemed temporarily struck dumb at the sight of two of his teachers chatting over tea with Iroh.

And, looking at him, Jee wondered whether the sudden tightening in his chest upon seeing the boy was a _very_ bad sign or merely a _pretty_ bad one.

"Ah, Zuko!" exclaimed Iroh jovially. "We had a very pleasant surprise this afternoon, you see! I finally got to meet the new teacher you've been telling me about."

It was pretty hilarious, really, the fleeting flash of panic in Zuko's eyes as they unwittingly snapped to Jee. The boy did not seem at all impressed with his uncle at the moment – nor with Jee, it would appear. Ah yes, there was the frown. Hello there, took you long enough…

"Uncle," hissed the boy, locking his gaze with the floor. But then he recovered remarkably quickly and turned to Piandao, putting his hands together in a traditional gesture of respect. Then, he bowed.

"Master Piandao," he murmured and, oddly enough, it _did_ sound respectful, even if somewhat strained. Now this was unusual. However, that was where the boy's reserves of respect seemed to end. When Zuko turned his bow slightly towards Jee, he didn't say anything, but looked the lieutenant in the eyes in a way that bore no traces of politeness at all, but had plenty of challenge and cockiness to make up for it.

_Go on, say something_, the kid seemed to be saying. _Make fun of me if you dare. I can take it. _

Jee barely stopped himself from shaking his head. Smiling slightly at the brat seemed to have an even better effect in throwing him further off-balance.

"Good to see you, Zuko," said Piandao good-naturedly. "I was wondering whether I'd see you in my class this year."

At this, the boy looked at the floor again and muttered something which sounded vaguely like "_Perhaps_." He also gave a little shrug to go with it. Embarrassment was as clearly painted in his entire posture as though he had the word written in lipstick on his forehead.

Jee found he was very much enjoying himself. It really was quite hilarious how the kid's body language gave everything away. Seeing him this uncomfortable was perversely gratifying.

"Anyway, I'll be going now," muttered the boy, still looking to all intents and purposes like the world held no better wonders than his worn-out Nikes. "I'll be back for supper."

And with that last remark, which could only be directed at Iroh, the sliding door slid shut again, rather more forcefully than was necessary. Angry footsteps could be heard outside for quite some time, complete with a door banging somewhere in the distance.

The three men sat in silence for perhaps three minutes until Iroh gave a little laugh and shook his head with a smile that was disturbingly fond. Jee tried to comprehend how anyone could smile with such fondness after Zuko for about a split of second before his mind firmly shut down.

Sadly, though, the topic of the Navy seemed to have been entirely dropped after Zuko's interruption. Jee resigned himself to sipping his – admittedly delicious – cup of steaming tea while the two men chatted about their little Pai Sho club, and let his mind wander.

Once at home, very late into the night, he found himself in front of his old laptop, a bottle of Budweiser in one hand, staring blankly at the screen.

His fingers seemed to type "Iroh Xi" out of their own accord.

* * *

Next up: Jee goes full Sherlock Holmes and certain questions are not asked.


	4. INTERLUDE: Zuko

**A/N**: This was my response to the prompt by luunyscarlet over on livejournal as her reward for spotting all the cameos in Chapter 1. She requested Zuko thinking about the new teacher.

This scene immediately follows Zuko's awkward stormout from the teashop in Chapter 2. I liked this format, so there may be some more interludes from Zuko's POV further in the story. Or does it disrupt the whole thing? Let me know what you think!

* * *

The bike wasn't fast enough. Not nearly fast enough.

Zuko's legs did as much as they could, pedaling him through the lamp-lit streets of Summerfield, maneuvering him in a crafty spiral between cars and pedestrians, the noises of the city drowned in the roaring of the guitars in his earphones.

Too bad the music was not loud enough to drown his thoughts as well.

What was _he_ doing there, having fucking tea -?

Zuko never liked puzzles. Azula made sure of that. He'd get frustrated with them way too quickly and then all thoughts of solving them were long gone, thrown out the window. That Jee guy… He was a puzzle. And one Zuko felt the wild, irresistible need to crack, despite the fact that he really was getting frustrated.

What _was_ that guy's deal? First he leaves the twenty bucks on the table – which were still resting in Zuko's wallet – and then he acts as though it was _nothing_, as though he left this much for waiters as a regular thing, as though it was just a stupid whim, as though he wasn't - _interested_.

The bike bumped on the uneven pavement by the old, disused factory, and Zuko really longed for the roar of an engine between his thighs, for the speed of his racing motor-bike. He wanted to just take off, let the wind blow this all away from his head. Perhaps it would blow the picture of Jee away, too.

But then, if he really wasn't interested, why did he keep… well, sending all those signals to the contrary? Zuko was not good at reading people, pretty shit at it really, but this… This just wouldn't leave him alone. Just like those fucking impulses he had during class, the impulses to look at the man, and to flex his muscles more than was necessary, and to soak up every glance in his direction that he spied, and to _force_ the man to look at him, to pay attention to him…

The twenty bucks. Those twenty bucks just wouldn't let him drop the whole thing. And there were times when he caught Jee looking his way, when he thought - when it felt like - the way the man _looked_ at him, it seemed -

Zuko gritted his teeth when his bike came to a screeching halt in an empty alley, littered with trash and stinking of piss. Carelessly leaning the bike against a wall, the young man promptly started climbing the drainpipe, using bricks and window sills for leverage until he was perched on the rooftop, the evening wind hitting his face, the music still aggressively pounding in his ears. He sat on the edge of the roof, letting his legs kick and swing, and breathed.

Shit, he was fucked up. He shouldn't be even beginning to think this way about a bloody _teacher_.

But the problem was… The problem…

Yeah. What _was_ the problem here, exactly?

Zuko groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.

Where would he even _begin_?

The problem was that he _hated_ it here. He absolutely loathed this fucking town and everyone in it, except for his uncle. And maybe – just maybe – Jee felt this way too.

Which still didn't solve anything, but maybe it was something of a starting point.

_A starting point for _what_, though?_ Asked a traitorous voice in Zuko's head which sounded suspiciously like Azula, forcing the boy to groan again into his hand. _You're not seriously considering… this, are you? Because that is really the new low. _

He didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore.


	5. Chapter 3: Jee the Internet Stalker

**A/N:** As promised, in this chapter you're getting Jee in Sherlock Holmes (or Stalker) mode. The power of Google is revealed, Jee's musical talents make a guest star appearance and certain questions are NOT asked.

Also, Zuko gets shirtless and there is a Sexual Tension moment (and a shout-out of sorts to "People in the mirror are closer than they appear," aka The Greatest Jeeko you'll ever read). I figured you guys deserve it after so much set-up... especially since there's gonna be more.

* * *

"So," started Jee uncertainly, shuffling the notes on his desk and glancing up at Piandao, who was busy scribbling something on his schedule chart. "Was your weekend all right?"

"Very relaxing, thank you," answered Piadano lightly, not looking up from his work. "Yours?"

"…It was ok." And that was it when it came to conversation starters. He couldn't bloody well comment on the weather now, could he? Better get right to the point…

But he couldn't very well go ahead with a cheery "_So that friend of yours, Iroh… Isn't he by any chance a brother of one of the most influential men in the country? Because I sorta spied on him online_". As far as conversational gambits went, this was one was somewhat lacking in subtlety. He was still testing his waters with Piandao, seeing how much of a friendship they could strike between them – if any – and the initial awkwardness had not entirely disappeared. It would probably come out exceedingly weird if he admitted he had looked up Iroh online, not to mention bringing up the whole new set of questions _that_ had posed.

It's just that… Shit, he was getting involved now. And in something that was way, way beyond him.

Really, he felt like kicking himself. He should have made the connection earlier. _Xi_. That was pretty much _the_ singularly most important surname on the business stage these days. Fire Industries sponsored a shitload of expensive international investments – military provisions included. Hell, Jee would bet his own head some of the shotguns he'd played with in his Navy days were manufactured in one of the Fire factories. That neat, simple logo of a flame was recognizable everywhere.

It's just that one did not expect to be served tea by one of _those_ Xi's. It was like being waited on by Madonna. Things like that simply didn't happen. So naturally most of those who did make the connection probably assumed it was just a coincidence – plenty of people with the same name, isn't there, and in such a huge Asian district, too… And Jee did look at the surname more closely for a moment, but discarded the feeling of déjà vu almost immediately.

Ha. That was probably exactly what the old bugger Iroh wanted.

Iroh Xi. _Of course_ he seemed familiar, he was a fucking retired major general. Jee had never seen him in person, but he'd seen enough pictures and heard the name often enough for it to leave an impression. During his – perhaps too extensive – browsing over the weekend Jee dug up enough information on the man to string together some sort of plausible narrative.

Stinking rich. Sponsoring God-knew-how-many projects and investments. Successful to a fault. Had a reputation for _the_ best mess hall parties in the army. A sure heir to old Azulon Xi, previous owner of Fire Industries. Right up until he was not, apparently because he objected Iraq and Afghanistan quite vocally and eventually resigned after his son, also a soldier, had been shot on the front. After that – vanished. Azulon dead, company taken over by younger brother, Ozai – almost immediately, when one looked at the dates.

And that was when shit got really disturbing.

Some of that information had been relatively easy to find – there were a few articles about Iroh's mounting career, with pictures added. Lu Ten, Iroh's deceased son, was present in some of them. But after the lad's death and Iroh's resignation the trail went pretty much cold – and even some of _that_ information Jee was only able to unearth because, being a military man himself, he knew where to look. At that point, a disbelieving part of Jee still pointlessly insisted Zuko must have been a nephew from a different branch of the family – maybe there was a sister?

But there was no sister, at least none that the records spoke of. Instead, Jee found an article in _The Times_ about Azulon's death and Ozai Xi's takeover of the company, complete with pictures. There was Ozai himself, tall, handsome, imposing, in a suit which probably cost more than Jee's annual salary, on a press conference, smirking slightly, perfectly groomed, with the characteristic flame looming elegantly in the background. And on either side of him were… his children.

It had taken at least three minutes of intense gazing and zooming in for Jee to truly recognize Zuko. The kid must have been no older than 10. He stood rigidly straight on his father's left side – left, not right? – and looked decidedly out of his depth, surrounded by camera flashes and shouting journalists. After gazing in some more, Jee decided there was something strangely forlorn about his expression, but could not put his finger on what it was precisely. But what was perhaps most striking about the photograph was that Zuko's fresh, young face was entirely unblemished. The younger girl standing to Ozai's right, though – Azula Xi, said the caption under the photo – looked as though she was _born_ on a stage, her pose as confident as that of her father's, her smirk the picture of self-assurance.

A perfect little family. Rich, successful, influential, with prospects half the world was envious of. One thing missing, though – where was the mother?

There was no word about her. Nothing. As though she had never existed. And Jee should really have left the research alone after that, but the next page seemed to have clicked _itself_, which led to the next one, and then the next,and in the end he did manage to dig up a short little snippet in some tabloid about a divorce, dating from about the same period in which Azulon Xi passed away. There was no picture of the lady herself, only a shot of Ozai from the same press conference and a short, dismissive statement that Ursa Xi retired to the countryside and wished not to be disturbed by journalists. There was nothing else anywhere, not a mention of her, not a single picture, even the divorce trial never got any coverage. She didn't even have a Facebook page. It was as if the woman had been spirited away.

There was very little mention of Iroh, too, after the whole resignation shebang. The only thing Jee managed to come up with were a few articles in Michigan local newspapers about the success of the Jasmine Dragon, which had apparently been quite the sensation, but not big enough to stir national curiosity. Some of those articles briefly mentioned Iroh's past career and background, noting how funny it was to have a former army officer run a teashop, but they were all pretty dated.

At this point it was nearing four o'clock in the morning, so Jee shut his laptop down and crawled into bed for some hours of precious sleep – but he didn't feel sleepy for a long, long time, his head reeling with speculation. And even though upon going to bed he decided firmly the entire mess positively reeked of confidential, murky upper-level shit and had absolutely _nothing_ to do with him, he still popped his laptop open on Saturday evening and searched for some more.

Idle curiosity, he told himself. No big deal. Just curious. And it wouldn't leave him alone now until he found everything he could, like an itch that continuously needed to be scratched. He was doing it solely for the purpose of being able to sleep again without his thoughts constantly straying.

And maybe, just maybe, he would find more pictures of Zuko without the scar.

Ultimately, he did. Ozai's name was now more or less a constant in specialized press and it was with next to no trouble that Jee found a couple of shots of him with both his children in the background: a grand opening of this-or-that, a newly-coined partnership, a particularly spectacular takeover, a business party. There was more of the girl than there was of Zuko, though, and the most recent articles featured her exclusively as the only companion at her father's side. She was apparently doing very well on her own now, representing her father on press conferences and showing herself very much capable of taking over when the time came. The newest picture of Zuko Jee could find was from when the boy was 13 – young, tall and handsome, with a very serious face, obviously going out of his skin to imitate his father, with a pretty black-haired Asian girl even younger than him on his arm, during some kind of official ball or other.

There was nothing about any accidents that may have caused the scar. Or about the heir to Fire Industries moving to some dump in Southern Michigan.

Finally, in an online archive of some tabloid, Jee found an article which was strangely disturbing. "_HEIR OF BUSINESS MAGNATE ACTS UP!_," screamed the headline. Attached to the article was the same picture of young Zuko and the pretty Asian girl during a party, captioned: "Zuko Xi in the company of Mai Weng, daughter of Senator Lei Weng." The article itself claimed that the teenage heir to Fire Industries was showing himself less than worthy of the title, acting up in his posh private school, causing scandals, failing classes and falling in with some bad company.

"_Teenage rebellion? Azula Xi (12), Zuko's sister, seems to think so. 'My poor brother is simply confused and straining under the responsibility,' she told us outside the Xi estate in California. 'I dearly hope this is just a passing phase.' She refused to comment further, though a reliable anonymous source tells us the Xi boy was frequently seen with a street gang. He is currently hospitalized in a private ward, having sustained a mysterious injury, most probably obtained in a recent street scuffle. Is that a way for a future industry magnate to behave? Or is Zuko Xi actively trying to flee this responsibility? Ozai Xi refused to comment, but he recently issued a statement that the boy is going to be moving under the care of his uncle, retired major general, currently residing in Michigan. Does the leader of Fire Industries hope his brother will instill some good old army discipline into the boy before it's too late?_"

A variation of this short article could be found in several other tabloids, none of them commenting on what happened to the boy after he was released from hospital – and none of them describing exactly what kind of "suspicious behavior" the boy indulged in, only giving very broad, general statements which could mean anything. No picture of Zuko with the scar ever made it into the press. Apparently this was not a very popular topic, easily buried in the archives and forgotten. The Xi's were not film or music celebrities, after all, and though popular after a fashion, they were not what was commonly considered "hot gossip." Maybe that was why the scarce articles were so fuzzy when it came to specifics.

Or maybe the entire story was just made up.

The thing was, though, Jee had no reason to suspect it was. He could frown at the article all he wanted – and he did frown a considerable bit, tugging at his sideburns and taking deep gulps of coffee – but he couldn't deny that the general image they painted of Zuko somehow _fit_. The kid did emit this kind of Bad Boy impression at school. This scar had to come from _somewhere_. It was surprisingly easy to imagine him running around with a street gang, being all rebellious to spite daddy and maybe get some attention this way. This whole thing had the aura of a typical Rich Boy scenario: "daddy is too busy to spend time with me and doesn't love me, so I'm gonna _make_ him notice me." The mother's mysterious absence only made this more likely.

Let's face it. If Zuko was anything, he was definitely a rebel.

But Pakku did say the boy didn't cause any serious trouble since coming here, and he certainly did not wreak any considerable havoc in Jee's classes – well, not the kind that would disturb the students as well as him, anyway. Though, on the other hand, the students _were_ afraid of him. That much was clear by now. And if Zuko had any friends, he was very good at keeping them secret. Did anyone at the school know? Did they type Zuko's name and find those articles? Did any of the kids suspect they listened to music on equipment manufactured by Zuko's dad?

Three years the boy had been living here. Three years, banished from his comfy home with five swimming pools and visiting celebs and high living, confined to this little dump on the other end of the country, working as a tea server.

No wonder he looked like he wanted to punch the crap out of the world at any given moment.

It still didn't explain the weird interest the kid seemed to have developed in Jee, but the man found he was glad for this additional information on Zuko's background – even if it felt disturbingly like prying. Perhaps it would make some things easier to understand. Or at least to put up with.

In the end, after he felt he had exhausted all available sources, Jee had bookmarked his findings and tried to devote his Sunday to put the whole thing entirely out of his mind. He had already invested much more interest in Zuko than was healthy _or_ professional, and every thought he spared on the boy only made it worse. He went out for a walk, caught a movie at the theater – one of those action blockbusters with lots of noise and shooting and explosions that conveniently allowed one to turn off his thinking for two hours – and phoned some of his old friends. He even played his guitar for a bit in the evening, a few classic rock ballads, something which he had not done since he arrived in Summerfield. He had a life of his own, dammit, and he was not going to waste all his free time on a family he had – gladly – nothing to do with.

But he could not stop his thoughts from flying back to the topic the moment he switched the lights off, nor could he keep them quite contained now, in his office in Flowing Creek on Monday morning, sitting across from Piandao and wondering how best to broach the subject without seeming like a creep.

That he was actually beginning to turn into, gods help him.

"I have to say I really am looking forward to the afternoon," said Piandao amiably, having finished with his scribbling and shuffling the papers. "Will you come and watch, Lieutenant?"

Jee rubbed his eyes tiredly. This clearly _wasn't _going to work. Not a good time to ask and prod, this – it would probably end in one big fest of awkward. There was no safe way to ask what he wanted to ask. Besides, even if Piandao _was_ friends with Iroh that didn't mean he knew anything substantial.

"Yeah," said the lieutenant tiredly. "I'll watch. That'll be good."

However, not asking the questions did not make them go away. Having a class with Zuko in fifth period did not help matters at all. What with the kid's habitual sneaky ogling – though it was _way_ too far-fetched to call it ogling, wasn't it? wishful thinking, Jee, wishful thinking – and the dug up material still fresh in Jee's head, it was quite a miracle that he managed to soldier his way through the class without a single awkward mishap or comment.

Especially since halfway through the class Zuko apparently decided that it was too hot in the air-conditioned gym and started exercising without his shirt on. Jee did not miss the long look the brat shot him as he removed the sleeveless shirt – couldn't miss it, busy staring straight at him as he was.

Well. _Well_.

… This really wasn't good.

Jee somehow managed to avoid gaping at Zuko for the rest of the class, choosing the smarter self-preservation technique and resolutely refusing to acknowledge the shirtless laid out on a silver platter before him – but he could not keep looking away when, after the class was finished, the kid decided to loiter again and wait until all his classmates were out of the gym.

Great. Just what Jee needed. The kid was going to accuse him of stalking now. Teenage tantrum coming in three… two…

"Please tell me you haven't joined my uncle's stupid tea club," said the boy instead, quite surprisingly, toying with the shirt in his hands but, infuriatingly, not putting it back on.

Jee felt momentarily conflicted over whether or not to order him to. It seemed like the biggest clash of interests since – well, since forever.

But he had to look at the kid now, didn't he? It would look super-suspicious if he hadn't.

"No, I didn't join," he replied as neutrally as he could, keeping his eyes locked firmly on the boy's face and very decidedly _not_ looking down. "I landed in the back parlor only because of Mr. Piandao. Strategy games are not really my thing. And neither is tea, actually."

Wait. Was it a trick of the light, of did the corners of Zuko's mouth actually go up? By a miniscule fraction and only for a split of second, but still.

"Thought so," said the boy, shrugging, his voice probably the softest and most neutral Jee had ever heard it be. "Pai Sho is probably the most boring thing in the world. Uncle has this club… Some of the teachers are in it. And Headmaster Pakku. We close the teashop early and they have those tournaments. Embarrassing as hell."

He wasn't looking Jee in the eye as he said it, the tension in his body was laughably noticeable and the fiddling of his hands on his shirt was getting more and more frantic, but still – _what_ the _actual_ fuck? Was Zuko Xi standing there shirtless and trying to make _polite conversation_ or did Jee obtain a mystery concussion overnight and was imagining things? Because that was _quite_ a jump from that Friday afternoon at the teashop and definitely not what Jee was expecting and…

And the brat just absent-mindedly scratched his abdomen.

Oh bugger. Jee's eyes _did_ go lower after all.

That was a _really_ nice abdomen. And Jee had no business whatsoever staring at it, so he stopped.

… In theory. Shit.

And Zuko… suddenly Zuko wasn't saying anything.

But he very slowly lowered the left hand, which was still clutching the shirt, and softly scratched his stomach again, inevitably further drawing Jee's attention. Which – which must have been purely accidental. Yes. Of course. There was no way in hell the kid did this deliberately, because this would mean that he was _flirting_, which he was obviously _not_.

The son of Ozai Xi of Fire Industries, standing there being blatantly shirtless and lightly touching himself. Really, could shit get any more surreal?

Not to mention that the situation was now rapidly moving from surreal to -

- To something dangerous.

Jee was a grown, experienced man. Of course he knew about sexual tension. And he knew that what was right in this moment developing in the empty gym between him and this seventeen-year-old, angry boy, carried a scent of sexual tension so strong it could be bottled up and sold for quite a hefty sum apiece on Amazon.

But knowing this did not provide him with the willpower to tear his eyes away and put a firm end to - all this. No, his eyes clearly decided they were declaring independence and, as their first act of defiance, chose to disobey the orders of Jee's brain and to hungrily follow every slight twitch of Zuko's pale fingers as they nervously skirted across well-defined, glistening abs. The movements were subtle enough that they could easily be interpreted as simple, subconscious nervous reactions, but they also _lingered_, and this - Christ.

Zuko Xi was an attractive boy. A very attractive boy. Even with that horrific scar on his face. Because his body was already so well-developed that many grown men could be jealous of it, and his hair partially curtained the scar anyway, and he was letting Jee stare, just standing there and not saying anything and -

And, yeah. All this time, the kid _was_ being silent. Which, when Jee realized it finally, the silence having grown more and more pronounced, was probably what prompted the man to tear his eyes from the admittedly mesmerizing view and focus his eyes again on Zuko's face.

Just in time to see the slightly dazed look in the boy's healthy eye, his half-parted mouth and a faint suggestion of a _blush_.

A fucking _blush_.

"So, uh," resumed Zuko awkwardly, seemingly startled into looking away and running a nervous hair through his messy hair. "Just wanted to say don't let them recruit you. Would be suicide. Lieutenant."

Okay, so he was trying to diffuse the somewhat heated – _sizzling_, actually – situation. Which in itself was _very_ strange, but Jee appreciated.

"Will look out for those wily tea people then," he replied, attempting to smile. "Thanks for the warning. Coming to the club meeting today?"

"Yeah."

"Good. See you then."

Zuko nodded, not looking Jee in the eyes, and made himself scarce astonishingly quickly, leaving behind an imprint in the man's mind of his sweaty, perfectly sculpted chest and of the look on his face as Jee stared at it.

Left alone in the gym, Jee stood in place for a while, frowning and trying to get his messy thoughts back on track. Then, he walked up to a wall and hit his forehead against it, hard.

This had to stop. Even though Jee wasn't sure what _this_ was and it hasn't even properly started yet. Because Jee knew himself, he knew the signs, and this was going in so many wrong directions all at once that he had to nip it very much in the bud.

He would start off by getting it once and for all into his thick skull that Zuko Xi was _not_ flirting with him. He was not making any advances, not inviting anything, not deliberately creating a space for them to interact. And even if he were – which Jee decided firmly to not allow himself to think – it would lead nowhere. That's right. Jee was _not_ going to get himself into a messy relationship with an underage student and that was that.

He carried on through the entire sixth period with this resolution embedding itself firmly in his mind, all thoughts of Zuko very decidedly banished. When it was time to take a small break and sit in on Piandao's opening meeting of their little club, this decision was still very much the loudest voice in Jee's mind.

He would _not_ look at Zuko if he didn't have to. He would _not_ actively encourage this situation to develop. He would _not_ be this kind of person.

And Zuko was _not flirting with him_.

* * *

**A/N 2**: Yes, the movie Jee went to see was "Avengers." Obviously.

Next time: The martial arts club is officially in session, Sokka has Ideas and Jee continues to battle his libido. I

t may be a while before the next update - it needs tons of editing. Also, I'm considering taking part in Zutara Week, so if I do, the wait between chapters may be even longer. Apologies in advance.

And remember: every time you click the Review button, a baby turtleduck is born! Massive thanks to everyone who reviewed so far :)


	6. Chapter 4: The Dancing Dragon Club

**A/N**: Did anyone say anything about a longer wait...?

In this chapter you can expect Sokka having brilliant ideas, Piandao being inspirational and Jee being irritable and hating on pandas. There will also be more cameos, storms and a surprise Lemon - not of the Travelling kind (obscure "Cabin Pressure" reference is obscure). Which means _**Sexual Content Warning**_. Who's excited?

* * *

Piandao's welcoming speech was, on the whole, as one would expect it to be. The man greeted everyone in his typical elevated tone, introduced both himself and Jee – and then launched himself into a mini-monologue about the symbolism and principals of martial arts, about how important they were to history and culture, how vital in finding balance and happiness and other such spiritual crap. Listening to him from his place on a bench by the wall, Jee fleetingly thought the guy sounded very much like the stock enlightened guru from every Hollywood martial arts flick.

Hell, give the guy inversions and he would sound like _Yoda_.

Some of the kids clearly thought so, too, judging from the not-so-sneaky grins they sent each other while their teacher was busy being oratory.

And yet – not being ridiculous about it. No. As irritating as Jee usually found this kind of speeches – because at the end of the day, it all came down to beating the other guy up before _they_ could beat up _you_ and Jee had always failed to see it as something particularly spiritual – even he had to admit that Piandao was actually interesting, his words fuelled by that compelling, puzzling, simple belief, iron conviction ringing in his every word. Jee could be snarky about it all he wanted, but it didn't change the fact that Piandao was – _inspirational_. Damn.

And while he was unleashing his inspiration on the classroom, Jee amused himself by trying to put a name to every face. There was Sokka and Bolin – those boys were really hard to forget, even after day one. Standing by them were three girls from Jee's third period: Korra, Katara and Suki, all three of whom the lieutenant was genuinely glad to see. Jee's watchful eye did not miss the way Sokka was trying to inconspicuously inch closer and closer to Suki, nor the way Bolin nudged Korra with his elbow and grinned, mouthing something to which the girl replied with a smirk. Katara, ever the diligent one, shot the two of them a mildly disapproving glare and quickly focused her attention back on Piandao, apparently oblivious to the clumsy attempts of a young, bald kid, probably a freshman, with an arrow tattooed on his head and similar ones on his arms and legs, who was trying to "accidentally" brush their hands together.

Ah. The exchange student Ming was so excited about during lunch a few days ago. Jee saw him a couple of times in the corridor – it was hard to miss the kid, sticking out from the crowd as he was. Sent from some Asian monastery or other to learn the ways of the world, apparently. From the rather dopey looks he was sneaking at Katara, the boy was a very attentive learner indeed.

Jee smiled to himself, watching them. It was _so_ good to know he would never be this age again.

He recognized a couple more kids from his other classes, but there were also a few faces he could not place – most of them white kids, a few African Americans too. Chiefly seniors and juniors with the occasional younger-looking teens, all of them looking suitably fit and more or less eager, so far as one could tell.

And then there was Zuko. Whom Jee was very deliberately not looking at.

In the meanwhile, Piandao managed to wrap up his speech with an inspired reflection on the harmony of all living things. He did not even finish asking if there were any questions when Sokka's hand shot up.

"Sifu Piandao, I think we should get ourselves a group name," announced the boy without waiting to be asked to speak, his face breaking into a giant grin.

"A group name, Sokka?" Piandao did not look impressed. "But you have not had a name before…"

"Yeah, 'cause Sifu Charlie thought names were lame. But we should totally get one now! I'm voting for Super-Awesome Badasses!"

There was much snickering at that, which Jee shared. "Why not throw Mega in there as well, to dispel all doubt," he suggested with a smirk, earning himself a look of pure idolization from Sokka and further chuckles from the group.

"Yeah, that about covers it," said Korra, punching Sokka lightly on his skinny arm.

"Oooh! Oooh!" The bald exchange kid seemed very agitated by this idea; he actually stood on his toes, inches away from jumping up and down. "Can we be Kung Fu Pandas? I loved that movie!"

"Or Karate Kids! Eh?" suggested Bolin, looking hopefully at the group. "'Cause, you know. We're kids. Learning karate."

"I still like Super-Mega-Awesome Badasses better," said Sokka stubbornly. "And it was my idea to give us a name in the first place, so I get to choose."

"Oh for goodness's sake," Katara rolled her eyes. "You don't get to choose _anything_, Sokka, because there will be no silly names! We don't need to look stupid in front of the entire school! How do you expect to get more members when you advertise for a club called Super-Mega-Awesome-Badasses?"

"I should think people would flock to join," replied Suki with a smile, winking at Sokka. "Not everyone gets to be a Super-Mega-Awesome-Badass-Kung Fu-Karate-Kid-Panda."

"This is getting ridiculous," Katara huffed at the whole laughing group and looked imploringly first at Piandao, then at Jee. "Sifu Piandao, Sifu Jee, please tell them it's ridiculous and that there won't be any stupid names!"

_Sifu Jee_, eh? That was probably the first time anyone called him that. It sounded… nice.

"Sorry, Katara," said Jee nevertheless, smiling at the girl. "Looks like you got outvoted. Though you lot better think of something shorter. The SMABKFKKP Club is rather a mouthful."

"This is so stupid." This statement did not come from Katara. Uttered softly, in a very derisive, hoarse whisper, it floated in Jee's direction from where Zuko stood, slightly apart from the majority, fists clenched at his sides and glaring at the chattering, laughing crowd.

"Well, what do _you_ think we should name ourselves then, Mr. Sunshine?" asked Korra, smirking challengingly at Zuko.

"Oh, leave him alone," interjected Suki, smiling at Zuko indulgently as though he were an exceptionally grumpy mascot. "He'd probably have us be The Doom Squad or something like that."

"Hey!" Sokka caught on to the suggestion. "The Badass Ninja Doom Squad! It's _perfect_!"

"Not as perfect as the Karate Kids," challenged him Bolin, puffing up like a typical male preparing himself to defend his territory.

Katara facepalmed and sighed like a martyr. Zuko snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. Around them, the scene turned into a massive session of bickering.

And Piandao just stood there, amiably indulgent, overlooking the humorous argument over a stupid group name with a slightly bemused expression, like a father might watch his child play in a sandbox with other five-year-olds. After a minute of this Jee hauled himself up from the bench and strolled over.

"Aren't you going to put a stop to this?" he asked, watching the students.

"Why should I?" Piandao shrugged. "They are obviously enjoying themselves. And Sokka's idea of a name seems popular, they might as well choose one now."

"Right." Jee frowned. And then he shook his head and clapped his hands, loudly.

"Oi!" he shouted. "I give you lot twenty seconds to come up with one name. The first and the loudest suggestion goes. And no badasses. We need to keep this school-friendly. No pandas, either, I hate those stupid hairy buggers. Go!"

A dozen mouths opened to shout at the same time, but it was a petite-looking black girl with a shock of curls tied back in a ponytail who beat them all and screamed at the top of her lungs:

"The Dancing Dragon!"

A mini-pandemonium broke out, but Jee decided not to let himself be swayed. Sure, they were an after-class club and naturally discipline would be slacker than in actual class, but this did not mean he could allow himself a slip in his foreboding drill sergeant reputation. This lot apparently needed _someone_ to hold the reins.

"The Dancing Dragon it is!" he announced with finality, raising his voice and clapping once so as to be heard over the hubbub. "I said whoever is first and loudest. Sorry, kids."

"But that's lame! And girly!" protested Sokka, the picture of indignation.

"Right, because 'girly' is such a disaster," Katara rolled her eyes again.

"I actually like it," piped in the exchange student with a very wide smile. "It's dynamic. And dangerous. Good job, Lucy!"

The Dancing Dragon author beamed at him.

"Thanks, Aang."

Bolin and a couple other students, including Korra, looked like they were about to go on protesting, but at this time Piandao put his hands together and – well, Jee, standing next to him facing the students, wasn't entirely sure just _what_ the man did, but the effect was instant. The entire group settled into disgruntled, sullen silence almost immediately, all fixing their gazes on the swordsmaster with something bordering on reverence.

Jee raised an eyebrow. What the hell? Piandao didn't even say anything, he just… stood there. And looked at them. And somehow, just by standing and looking at them, he managed to make his own silence more prominent and audible than any shouting petty officer could.

Okay, that was pretty impressive. And also a little annoying.

"You all heard Lieutenant Jee," said Piandao softly once he was sure he had everyone's undivided attention. "From here on out we shall be known as the Dancing Dragon Club. Congratulations, Lucy. I, for one, believe a more perfect name could not be asked for. A martial artist should be like the dragon – swift, dangerous, deadly, but with movements as graceful and mesmerizing as a dancer's. A dancing dragon is a creature of power and grace, something we should all aspire to. Now, assume your horse stance. We will begin with breathing exercises."

They did begin with breathing exercises – and finished with them, having done little else throughout the entire hour and a half of their allotted time. Jee sat there on his bench and watched teenagers breathe, squatting and assuming different poses, while Piandao walked around them and talked in that hypnotizing, soothing voice of his. It was a wonder nobody fell asleep.

But neither did they protest nor show any blatant signs of impatience – well, maybe except for the exchange kid, Aang, who did have some considerable problems staying focused and would squirm doubly as much as the others. Most of the kids were pretty concentrated, eyes closed, body tense, senses on the alert. Despite the entire club name debacle, they clearly took all this seriously and respected Piandao.

Well then. This only meant Jee would have to earn their respect just as effectively now, wouldn't he…

He was still firmly held by his resolution to behave, so he only permitted himself to look at Zuko when it was a natural consequence of looking at everyone else – but when he did, he was unfailingly struck by the sheer tenacity reflected on the boy's face. You could carve in fucking stone with the power of this kid's determination. He looked as if every word dropping from Piandao's lips was a pearl to be caught and cherished and he was dead set on not doing anything wrong – even if it was breathing, something which he had been doing since he was born. If Jee admitted before himself that he looked more closely – which he wouldn't – he would concede that there was an underlying current of growing impatience somewhere in that expression and in the way the boy's muscles contracted… but that way lay disaster. If Jee permitted himself to study Zuko's muscles, his thoughts would be plunged right back onto that downward spiral of doom. So he stubbornly avoided this train of thought as soon as he came in view of it, focusing on other students with a determination which had gotten him through 15 years of naval service and was only sharpened because of them.

And very, very firmly not reacting to the lingering, slightly expectant look Zuko gave him at the end of class, before he slowly disappeared into the locker rooms after the rest of his classmates.

::::::::::::

On Wednesday after class it turned out that not only did they have a club name – they were also about to have a logo. At least according to Sokka, who saw it fit to accost Jee at the end of their regular fifth period class, a beaming Bolin in tow, brandishing a rolled-up sheet of paper like a proud architect might present the plans for something that could be called Millennium Tower or Golden Memorial Bridge.

Jee was less than amused when he saw them approach. Both of them were wearing grins which, he had already learned, did not bode well. Zuko lingered in the back again and hovered by the door, watching the spectacle with a dark, sullen expression which Jee really did not want to try and decipher.

"We wanted to show you this, sir!" announced Bolin as Sokka unrolled the poster lovingly and spread before Jee what - well, what must have been a painting, because it sure as hell couldn't be handwriting and that left only one alternative.

There were… colors. Quite a lot of colors. So many colors that it looked like someone high on something very illegal indeed decided it would be a good idea to make a paper color soup. And among those enthusiastic blotches, there were some lines which _could_ be interpreted as a sort of creature if the viewer was feeling benevolent, but the actual nature of the intended image was more than puzzling. And above this display of merry artistic chaos were words calligraphed in what the author presumably imagined to be Asian font, proclaiming "The Dancing Dragon Club."

Right.

Jee looked from the picture back at the boys – they were both grinning and watching him expectantly, all eagerness and youthful zeal. Oh bugger. How to handle this diplomatically…

"That's… very interesting," he said at length, taking care to keep his expression as neutral as possible and silently thanking the higher powers for his military experience, which enabled it.

"We did it during lunch hour!" announced Sokka excitedly. "It's a dancing dragon, sir! Those are the wings, sir!"

"Wings. Right. Very… colorful."

"This could be our logo!"

"It'll be perfect after a bit of photoshopping," piped in Bolin.

_Yes, if by a bit of photoshopping you mean redoing the whole thing,_ thought Jee, though out loud he said:

"I think you should wait and show it to the rest of the group on Thursday before doing anything more about it. _After_ my class. But I appreciate your… effort."

"We should have a logo," announced Bolin as Sokka saluted and returned the cardboard masterpiece of modern art back into its rolled-up state. "All the other clubs do."

"Right. Like I said, wait for Thursday and see what the others say. I'll see you both tomorrow."

"Yes, sir!" shouted both Bolin and Sokka in unison, and managed to keep their faces straight for about a split of second before they collapsed into a fit of giggles. Clearly this feat of synchronic responding had been previously rehearsed.

Jee graced them with a smile before shooing them out of the gym with a mock-stern "Bugger off now."

Zuko was no longer there by the door when the two boys left. He must have disappeared soundlessly sometime in the middle of this exchange. Jee heaved a small sigh of relief. This meant another day would go by without him breaching his resolve.

And he had to admit he was doing rather a good job of the whole mess. Both on Tuesday and during today's class he did not look at the boy any more than was strictly necessary, but he also made a conscious effort not to avoid him altogether, which would be taking it to the extreme and sending an inappropriate message all on its own. He couldn't give Zuko fuel to think he was reacting to him in any way out of the ordinary. As far as Jee could tell, he largely succeeded in treating the kid like he treated any other student, though maybe with a bit more reserve and proper, professional distance.

Which was very much needed here. Yes. Distance was good.

He also managed not to think too much about the stuff he read on the Internet over the weekend, though some part him did keep a look-out for any tip-off signs which would shed some light on how much the other students knew of Zuko's situation. So far, there weren't any. From the three weeks Jee spent in Flowing Creek, it seemed that nobody particularly cared about Zuko's parentage – or about anything at all concerning the boy. They kept a huge distance from him and clearly this was how he wanted it.

If only he had wanted the same from Jee, the world would have been a much simpler place.

But no. He took to _staring_ again. Jee could _feel_ it. The more determined he was not to acknowledge what had undeniably passed between them on Monday, the more intense Zuko's renewed attempts to draw his attention got. And today there was also some glaring involved. Zuko was even more violent than usual and it was only by some miracle that Jee didn't have to break up a fight between him and Ruon-Jon, who was unfortunate enough to be paired with him for a pin-down contest.

It was getting increasingly hard for Jee to convince himself that it was not an attempt to get his attention, but this was what he had decided to stick to. It was safer this way.

Besides, even if it _was_ a ploy to get Jee's attention, it didn't matter. Jee could deal with it. He was in control here and Zuko would just have to suck it up.

Not that including the words "suck" and "Zuko" in the same sentence was the wisest course of action here…

Still, looking on the bright side, it definitely wasn't the lethally boring exile Jee had been expecting before arriving in Summerfield. He'd been having plenty of excitement.

Though in all honesty Jee wasn't sure which of the two he preferred.

::::::::::::

By the time the Thursday club meeting began, Jee was more than ready to call it a day and drive the hell home. All day long the unmistakable signs of an impending migraine plagued him and prevented him from thinking with his usual clarity. The students only made it worse. The unrelenting miasma of heat outside, spiced with storm-heralding humidity, apparently turned them all to unresponsive mush. Even inside the Flowing Creek building the air seemed strangely electrified, as though the coming storm wanted to penetrate the classrooms. As a result, Jee had to do more shouting than usual and resort to the more tradition-blessed Navy disciplining methods, which, by and large, meant running the lazy buggers to the ground until they cried. And not even that managed to lift his spirits. Clearly, it was just One of Those Days and the twice-accursed Zuko situation did not help Jee's mood in the slightest. The little bastard even managed to make things worse in fifth period when he got himself into a near-fight with Chan – Jee actually had to physically restrain them both from punching the living daylights out of each other over a stupid you-shoved-me thing.

And, blast it all to hell, his first reaction was to grab not Chan, but Zuko. Of course. Yes, the brat was the more violent of the two and more in need of restraining, but still, Jee felt like a bloody idiot when he quickly moved to stand between two snarling boys, planting a firm palm on each chest and trying hard to erase the feel of Zuko's firm, solid muscles from his flesh memory. Which was really hard to do while he still felt them, the heat of Zuko's chest nearly scorching his hand. And when he stood there, ordering them to shut the bloody hell up and leave it while Chan took obvious pains not to turn tail and run for it and Zuko tried to lunge at him, the predominant thought on Jee's mind was:

_I seriously need to get laid_.

Needless to say, after all this he really wasn't in the mood to look at any more teenagers, but thankfully, the club meeting started out smoothly enough. Sokka and Bolin miraculously managed to contain their logo-related enthusiasm and waited until the end of the class with sharing their creation, like Jee asked them to; the lieutenant found himself remembering most of the names of the students he didn't normally teach; and, maybe because of his military aura or maybe because of the merciless drill he put them through during the warm-up, the kids followed his instructions willingly enough and without too much fuss.

Or maybe they just sensed his crappy mood and didn't want to risk it.

Still, Jee saw no reason to go easy on them. One of their aims in setting up the club was to improve the students' physical fitness and endurance and this was exactly what he intended to do – if he was going to suffer through another hour and a half, well, so would they. Push-ups, crunches, reverse curls, stretching, running, squatting, sequences of murderous exercises across the floor and more, all done to the accompaniment of Jee shouting at them to hurry up, had most of the students exhausted by the end of the warm-up.

Good. They had better get used to it. Piandao might preach at them and make them breathe on Mondays, but this was Jee's class and he was going to make things his way.

Next came the basics – it was good to have the kids brush up on them, no matter how advanced some of them were. Jee demonstrated a few simple punches, which they did repeatedly in long sequences to get their bodies adjusted to the movements. Kicks followed. By the time Jee paired them up to practice those basic moves together – one person attacking a kicking shield held by the other – they had less than a half hour left.

Jee let his students choose who they wanted to be paired up with, just to test the general group dynamics, and was pleased to notice that most of the girls did not shy away from forming pairs with boys. Thankfully, they had an even number of students, so the lieutenant did not have to practice with one of them himself – knowing his rotten luck, he would have gotten Zuko. As it was, the kid was eventually approached by Korra, who confronted him with a cocky "Ready for me, broody boy?"

Zuko's only response was a glare and a general stiffening of his entire figure – which, in his body language, probably meant _challenge accepted_. Jee decided to keep a closer eye on the pair – just in case. He really didn't want to prevent another fight. Neither Korra nor Zuko were known for their mild, controlled tempers and both were obviously itching for a challenge.

Oddly enough, even with this simple exercise, they got it. Zuko gruffly offered to hold the kicking shield first while Korra kicked and punched at it, and one would think there was no way for them to make it into a contest, but clearly Jee underestimated the power of teenage bravado. Zuko locked his legs and tensed up in such a way so as not to budge, even for an inch, as Korra's punches landed – _hard, _shit, the girl was_ strong_ – on the shield. And the harder he froze in place, the stronger Korra's attacks got, as if she _wanted_ to force him backwards. A vicious circle was clearly in the making.

Jee shook his head with a sigh and took a quick look around the gym to assess how the rest of the class were coping, deciding it best to leave the two kids to it for now while there was no imminent risk of collateral damage. He honestly didn't have the strength to tell them to cool off, but at least the general situation seemed manageable enough. Sokka was currently whining under the assault of Suki's heated attack, Katara was holding the shield for Aang who took obvious pains not to kick and punch too hard even despite the girl's encouragement – Jee would have to do something about that – Bolin practiced with Jack, a boy who could compete with him in size, Haru was helping Lucie with her stance. Some of the pairs were goofing off, but not disturbingly so. Nobody seemed to require his immediate attention, so Jee strolled over to Aang and demonstrated how he should have been hitting the shield.

"Don't be afraid to hit hard, kid," he said, aiming a punch at the shield which Katara withheld with a small smile. "See? She's not a delicate flower. She's tough. You won't hurt her. Now give it a go for _real_."

Instead of following Jee's instructions right away, though, Aang hesitantly scratched the back of his head. "Um. That's not really my style, sifu Jee," he confessed with a sheepish, apologetic smile. "I'm used to Ba Gua. We don't really, uh, punch and kick like that…"

Right. No shouting, Jee, this kid doesn't look like he takes well to being shouted at…

"Versatility is good whatever your preferred style is," he said, trying to sound patient. "You may find yourself in a nasty spot one day and you're gonna wish you practiced some punching then. You'll get a chance to show off your skill, but today it's punching time. Now hit that shield and imagine it's your least favorite person's face. That always works for me."

Aang sighed and shuffled in place, looking unsure and mumbling under his breath: "But that's hate and negative energy. It's not how I'm supposed to feel…"

Jee decided that in this situation, the Eyebrow Raise of Doom and his best drill sergeant face were appropriate.

"What was that?" he asked loudly, activating both; oh, yes, that felt good.

Aang sprang to attention, his eyes wide and panicked.

"Nothing, sifu Jee, sir! I'm going to punch the shield now, sir!"

"Good! Show me!"

"It's all right, Aang," added Katara in an encouraging tone from behind the shield. "I'm ready."

This time it was better. The kid actually put some muscle into it. Jee nodded in satisfaction and sent Aang a fraction of a smile before moving on, glancing briefly in the direction of his most combative pair.

They had switched in the meantime – Korra held the shield now and Zuko kicked at it, viciously hard and fast. The smacks of his feet colliding with the shield echoed loudly in the gym. Admirably, Korra held fast under the assault, her feet locked, her teeth clenched, her face fixed in a determined frown. She was making it into a strength contest much like Zuko had before.

Well. If they felt so inclined, Jee wouldn't interfere. It kept Zuko busy and his energy directed… elsewhere that was not Jee. As long as the shield was the only one receiving all the abuse of raging teenage hormones…

They finished a little early, officially to give Sokka and Bolin time to present their creation. Jee predicted it would turn into a prolonged discussion and was proven right almost immediately, when the unrolling of the poster provoked a fair amount of incredulity accompanied closely by hilarity. He sat back, rolling his shoulders and massaging them, and impatiently watched the spectacle unfold.

"You _have got_ to be joking…"

"What does that even _look_ like?"

"You call _that_ a dragon? My cousin could do a better dragon than that. And she's 4 months old!"

"Well, _you_ draw one if you're such an expert!"

"I think it looks… cute."

"Yeah. Like a toddler's scrawl."

"I worked very hard on this, I'll have you know!"

"You mean '_we_' worked hard on this, right?"

"Well, yeah. Sorta."

"You know, Bolin, this really isn't something you should be proud of."

"Hey!"

"I think we could make it into a snake if we added a tongue…"

"And what's with the rainbow? Are we a gay club now?"

"That's not a rainbow, that's dragon fire!"

"Oh yeah? Since when is dragon fire rainbowy?"

"Seriously, whatever you guys have been smoking, you should lay it off."

"Cut the guys some slack. That's just Sokka's gay subconscious making itself known."

"For the last time, you idiots, THAT IS NOT A RAINBOW!"

"Maybe if I worked on it a little, we could use it…"

"As a deterrent, you mean."

"Hey!"

Zuko, predictably, did not take part in the discussion. While the rest of the group huddled in a noisy, chattering semi-circle around the poster duo, he sent a long, lingering look at Jee – at which point Jee abruptly transferred his gaze to the group, rather more ostentatiously than was necessary – then abruptly made his way to the locker rooms, wiping his forehead as he went and breathing heavily from exertion. Jee watched him go out of the corner of his eye until the boy disappeared from view.

Okay, so things could be going better. But with any luck, Jee had gotten his message across. They were going to tread the path of the moral and godly from now on, no matter how often Zuko decided to take his shirt off…

Jee massaged his own forehead and temple, swallowing a groan. Yeah, there was a definitely a nasty headache already developed there, dangerously close to a full-blown migraine. He would have to stuff himself with some powerful painkillers once he got home. And go straight to bed.

Fucking teenagers with their fucking perfect bodies and fucking provocative staring…

At least the poster issue seemed to have been temporarily dealt with. Aang offered to work on it, as apparently he was in an art class, and a few people volunteered to help. With that concluded, the only thing left to do was end this session with a formal bow to signal that they could all damn well go home now.

When upon getting into his car Jee remembered he still had the grocery shopping to do, he very nearly slammed his hands on the honk.

It was late in the evening when he finally parked by his apartment building and climbed the creaky stairs up to the third floor, laden with bags of shopping. His dinner was an improvised, quick affair of frozen, ready-made lasagna washed down with some ice-cold beer straight from the fridge, which sometimes helped Jee with his headaches. He was too relieved to be back home to care about quality nutrition.

Not that this cramped, cluttered little two-room space deserved to be called home. But it was quiet, private and blessedly teenager-free, and Jee could roam around it with nothing on but his boxerbriefs, so it was good enough for his standards. At this point, he just wanted to be left alone.

The thunder which rippled across the sky did not surprise him in the least as Jee threw himself on his old, squeaking bed in the dark, not bothering to turn the light on. The air smelled of storm so strongly everyone expected it to break out any moment, and even back when the lieutenant had been busy shopping the wind had already started to howl through the streets. It was only a matter of time. As long as it didn't rain, he could keep his windows open to let in the wind and the colder, blissfully fresh air…

Jee closed his eyes when the next thunder rumbled alarmingly close and ear-splittingly loud. He stretched on the bed, tension painfully obvious in his shoulder and neck muscles – and, well, bloody everywhere. Maybe it was a good time for a cigarette. He wasn't a heavy smoker, but he did enjoy one every once in a while, particularly when he felt more stressed out than usual.

Sitting up, he leaned over to his bedside drawers and rummaged in them for the packet he kept there in case the urge struck him. But even with the cigarette in his mouth and the stormy, charged air pouring in from the open windows, it still wasn't enough to help him unwind or magic the pulsing pain in his head away.

It was so hot. It had no right to be, what with October right around the corner, and yet… The storm should clear the air a little, but the humidity was maddening. The air was positively oily with it. Jee lay there nearly naked on top of his bedspread and still drops of sweat trickled down his neck, down his legs, from his armpits…

The problem was, he knew what he _really_ needed. And, as the storm rolled closer and closer, he was increasingly willing to just crack and do it.

Maybe this really _was_ it. This one moment of abandon. To clear his thoughts and rid himself of this blasted, pent-up tension. Maybe then it would be easier to move on and keep his promises to himself.

And, well, why the bloody hell not? The walls may be paper-thin, but in this weather, nobody would hear him. Not the young married couple with a 1-year-old toddler who lived next door from him, not the middle-aged single businesswoman in the flat below and certainly not the widowed Mrs. Chow, his old and deaf-ish landlady, dwelling above. They were all busy with their own lives – even now, Jee could hear the crying of the 1-year-old through the wall and their parents trying to soothe and distract him with noisy cartoons. Nobody was going to care about what a lonely ex-sailor did on his own.

Another thunder rolled, this one finally unleashing a torrent of long-awaited rain on Summerfield. Jee swore under his breath, got up, closed the windows, turned on the fan and lay back down on the bed, extinguishing his cigarette.

And then, he closed his eyes, took one deep breath to say a temporary farewell to his resolve and slid his right hand under the waistband of his underwear.

What the hell. There was no harm in fantasizing if he wasn't going to act on it…

And yet, initially he _still_ refused to think of Zuko, clinging to what pitiful shreds of morality he had left. The rain banged and rattled furiously against the glass, the thunderstorm crashed and rolled over his head, and he lay there in darkness, stroking his already half-hard cock almost languidly – because why hurry, he had all night, there was no urgency whatsoever – searching his memory for particularly arousing memories of his past exploits.

Like that one time, when he fucked Steven Hawkins up against the door of the engine room, both of them biting onto the other's skin to keep quiet…

Or Miguel Duncan back in basic, his young, tawny skin glistening in the showers when they rushed through it to make it before the lights-out…

Or when Steven sucked him off for the first time while they were both on guard duty…

Or that one guy in Iran, barely over twenty, so skillful with his tongue, so eager to please…

_Zuko's skin coated with sweat as Jee grabbed him from behind to stop him from lunging at Chan_…

The grasp on his cock became firmer as he let out a soft groan into the static darkness.

Fuck, it was useless. He could fight a losing battle against his own mind all he wanted, but deep down, he knew what was really boiling beneath the surface. And he was rapidly losing his stamina and the will to fight. No one could see his thoughts except himself. Might as well give in.

His hand sped up as his mind filled with images of Zuko, shirtless and gleaming with sweat and _looking_ at Jee like he sometimes did in class – only more so, with more obvious lasciviousness and need. Feeling only a little guilty, Jee summoned the memory of how his palm felt pressed up against Zuko's chest and imagined what it would feel like to run it over the rest of the boy. And suddenly, the floodgates opened. The dam exploded. More pictures, all originating from Jee's suddenly overactive imagination, burst forth, so quickly they nearly blurred into one another.

_Zuko standing alone under the school showers, the water trickling down his spine, along the smooth, enticing curve of his buttocks and between them, and he was looking over his shoulder at Jee, smirking at him in invitation._

_Zuko on his knees in the locker rooms, gloriously naked and eagerly sucking on Jee's cock, a glazed look in his eyes as he locked them with the lieutenant's._

_Jee sucking on _him_, in the back parlor of the Jasmine Dragon, Zuko with most of his tea server's uniform still on, writhing and pulling at Jee's hair and breathlessly gasping his name. _

_Zuko riding him in the middle of their empty gym, wild, wanting and reckless._

_Jee fucking him, fucking him hard, from the behind, lying on top of him, sideways, on this bed, on the floor, in the school's restroom cubicles, on the bunks of some of the ships he'd served on, and Zuko looking at him, constantly _looking_ at him, his striking golden eyes wild and bright and glazed with sex, wanting, lusting, demanding…_

He came into his hand with a hitched breath, his eyes snapping open, still seeing Zuko's white, naked body in a dizzying whirl of highly inappropriate images, the boy's eyes boring into his mind, the thunder a shattering rumble in his ears.

He lay there afterwards, in his dark, dark bedroom, God only knows how long, just breathing heavily and listening to the storm.

It was so much easier than thinking.

* * *

**A/N 2**: The Sokka shenanigans in this chapter are dedicated to Squidcats, who requested it after catching all the cameos in Chapter 1. I'm still going to incorporate your main prompt, don't worry!

Chapter 5 turned out to be over 10k in word count, so I'm splitting it into two parts. This means you should get chapters 5 and 6 really soon, as both are more or less ready.

And what to expect in chapter 5? Zuko getting even more aggressive, Ming getting flirty and Jee demonstrating some highly unorthodox teaching methods. We will also be invited to Music Night.

Massive thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and increased the world's population of turtleducklings!

Oh, and I keep forgetting to mention it, but you can find me on Twitter at Dracze. I tweet about all sorts of random stuff, mostly fangirling and occassionally in Polish and I'll probably irritate you more often than not, but I also tweet about the stories I write quite a lot.


	7. Chapter 5: Keeping up the Fight

**A/N**: "Substitute" is now over 100 pages! *pops champagne*

This chapter brings you an extra-aggressive Zuko, Ming being flirty and Jee suspecting the Higher Fanfiction Powers That Be and demonstrating just how much he ISN'T a good role model. It also establishes once and for all that the Authoress is a mean tease.

Many heartfelt thanks to unjapanologist for providing me with inspiration and to amanda91 for coming up with the awesome idea to ship Jee and Ming - you can read about it in her hilarious piece "A Sordid Tale of the Firelord and his Captain," which is also a Jeeko fic. Go read it, now!

* * *

"Ok, hang on," asked Jee carrying his lunch tray with a cheeseburger and fries and following Ming to an empty table in the teacher's lounge. "What the hell is this Music Night?"

Ming chuckled good-naturedly and set her own tray of highly unhealthy junk food down on the table. "You need to go at least once," she said, sitting down and inviting Jee with a gesture to do the same. "Your reputation as a Flowing Creek teacher depends on it. You could say it's sort of an unofficial rite of passage."

Jee frowned. "And you're inviting me to the next one?"

"In two weeks' time, yeah. It'll be the opening of the season. I'm sure one of Mr. Iroh's tea buddies will invite you to this sooner or later. It's kind of a big thing."

Jee stifled a sigh and rubbed his temple. The universe obviously hated him.

"The Jasmine Dragon is famous for it," offered Ming, her mouth full of fries with copious amounts of ketchup. "Iroh does this thing once a month. It's mostly for the school bands, a friendly space they can perform in and get their names out there, but there's also an open mike later in the evening with karaoke and so on. It's lots of fun."

"And the teachers go under no duress?" Jee had to make sure – maybe there was a loophole somewhere he could use to wriggle out of it…

"Well, Pakku does select a number of chaperones to help out and make sure the kids behave. He makes a lottery. But you should come anyway, even if you don't get picked. Like I said, it's lots of fun. I'd love to see you up on stage, soldier boy."

She winked at Jee, taking a generous gulp of her milkshake. The man found it in him to smile and briefly debated whether or not to tell her that he played the guitar and was generally considered quite a good singer, but ultimately decided against it.

She would probably find out soon enough. He couldn't think of anything to say that would save him from this. Maybe he'd come with some excuse later, but for now, his mind was too busy panicking, so he cleared his throat and asked the most ordinary question he could think of:

"Will there be alcohol?"

"Later in the evening after the students are done, yes. Iroh is pretty liberal on this point. Don't worry, even he won't make any of us drink tea _all_ the time."

Good. So there was a _tiny_ silver lining to this thing after all.

"Well?" Ming playfully poked his hand with her fork. "Are you game?"

Jee took a sip of his coke and sent her another smile, silently congratulating himself on this feat of facial maneuvering when all he wanted to do was scowl – or better yet, run away and hide in some broom closet until the world forgot about him. "It's not like I have much of a choice, do I?"

"No you don't," said the woman cheerfully, blissfully oblivious to her companion's inner turmoil. "And you know what? I'm even going to pick you up in my car and drive you back so you can drink. Aren't I awesome?"

"You're sure it won't be to make certain I'll come and to drag me out by force if I refuse?"

"Damn, you blew my cover."

"What's this about blowing covers?" asked a slim, attractive woman of about forty, dressed in a smart burgundy suit and hovering at their table with her own tray. Jee's memory supplied the necessary data almost at once: Jane Pool, divorced, two daughters, American History teacher, likes cats and gardening. She took the vacant seat between Jee and Ming, smiling at the two of them.

"Jee's just said he knows about my big lesbian crush on Sarah Lankin from administration," explained Ming immediately.

"Yeah, I was just telling Ming here to act on her feelings."

Jane nodded with the expression of a sage. "A good lay will do her good. Do it, Ming, for all our sakes."

Sarah Lankin, a bitter old lady responsible for schedules, was commonly known among the staff as Sarah Chainsaw, and not for her love of carpentry.

"But in the meantime, she's abducting me for my very first Music Night over at the Jasmine Dragon," clarified Jee, munching on his cheeseburger.

"Wanted to do it before all the other teachers got to it and stole my date," Ming winked at him again.

Jane whistled. "You sly little thing," she said, taking a bite of her coleslaw. "You've just earned yourself hate mail from all the female staff."

Ming shrugged, unperturbed by the vision of her mailbox filled with jealous feminine vitriol. "Finders keepers. They'll just have to deal with it."

Jee wasn't sure how to respond to it, and not only because it was vaguely awkward to hear such blatant testaments to his own popularity with the ladies of Flowing Creek High School. He had suspected for a while now that Ming might have taken a shining to him. All things considered, this outing could be a good opportunity to explain to her that his appetites were, ah, of the less conventional sort.

And even less conventional now than they had been before, it seemed…

Not that he was consciously keeping his homosexuality a secret. But the less people around here knew about his private life, the safer he was. It was better this way.

Which is why he did not deny the "date" status of their Music Night evening that day during lunch and even played along, adding a little harmless flirtation to keep the conversation going. Creating such safety nets never hurt, however much Jee might have disliked similar masquerades. Besides, he really enjoyed Ming's company and it was definitely better to go with her than with other people who might potentially want to drag him to this event, so all in all, there were some good sides to all this.

However, neither of them outweighed the one massive, glaringly bad side, which was spending the evening in _Zuko's Uncle's teashop_, where it was all but certain Zuko would be as well. If Jee hadn't known any better, he might have suspected there was someone out there who was actively trying to push them together.

Not that Zuko needed any more encouragement – at least on some days, when Jee's "Zuko's NOT flirting with me" mantra begged for serious reevaluation and gradually lost its potency. On those occasions, the flirting, though admittedly awkward and rather clumsy, was so obvious in the way Zuko looked at Jee, moved or tried to attract his attention, that convincing himself that what he saw was not, in fact, what he _knew_ he was seeing, got nigh impossible.

There was one particularly trying situation during their normal fifth period classes, about a week ago, when Zuko got himself into a real fight, with Tahno this time. Jee didn't know what was going on since he was busy correcting Sokka's stance, and only when the insults turned into a messy argument with fisticuffs involved did he realize what had happened. It took both him and Bolin to fully restrain the boys, with Zuko being exceptionally violent and practically seething with fury – Jee had to hold him forcefully until he calmed down. As a result, the brat somehow managed to brush against him in all the wrong areas at once. Jee sent both offenders to Pakku's office as quickly as he could and remained distracted for the rest of the lesson, and it was this memory, accompanied by the usual half-conscious sense of guilt and embellished with a fantasy of how differently it might have ended, that he wanked to that night.

Not to mention it was torture just _meeting_ Zuko, both in everyday classes and in his Dancing Dragon sessions, because every time he looked at the brat, images from his own fantasies would start speeding through his mind like it were some fucking Formula 1 racetrack. This inevitably led to… undesirable effects. It was a good thing Jee had had plenty of experience in controlling his erections, because otherwise he would have gotten himself kicked out pronto and maybe even locked up for his trouble.

And then there were other days, during which Zuko seemed to avoid Jee as much as Jee wanted to avoid him. It felt, then, as though the boy was trying to pretend that the flirty days never happened and that he never sent Jee any signals that could be interpreted as provocative. Jee learned to distinguish between these moods based on the levels of snappiness and standoffishness Zuko exhibited: he was at his most irritable and violent when he was trying to play the good boy. The Tahno fight happened on one of those days, actually, even though this eventually led to the inappropriate rubbing.

It was a Thursday. Zuko did not come to the club meeting that afternoon.

Initially, Jee tried to interpret this confusing behavior, make some sense of it. He gave up after the second week. One could as well try to see through a crazed lion in a cage – Zuko seemed just as unpredictable. Maybe there was a deeper, desperate signal hidden somewhere in there, but Jee had better things to do than try to decode it. For now, he decided that ignoring the boy was the best course of action he could take. He would deal with things as they came at him.

Of course, making the decision was much easier than sticking to it, but no one could blame him for not trying.

He would deal with this teashop gig the same way. He would go to this Music Night thing and – and enjoy himself, that's what he'd do. Yes. Maybe he'd even go up on stage. And if Zuko was there, maybe then he'd see that Jee just didn't care. And then, hopefully, he'd give up and start behaving like a normal student. Or at least as normal as it was possible for someone like Zuko to be.

And if things got heated again, well then, Jee would just have to confront him openly and put his cards on the table. _Look, kid, you're hot, but I'm not all that eager to go to jail and it's not gonna happen, so just drop it and find yourself a nice boyfriend or girlfriend your age. _Or something along those lines, minus the "you're hot." That's not the kind of thing one said when one was getting rid of a horny teen. It could just encourage the brat.

Actually, maybe that was _precisely_ the sort of conversation both of them needed. And coming to think of it, maybe Jee should heed his own advice and find himself someone of _his_ age. He didn't really want to look for a relationship, not after everything he'd been through, but maybe a solid one-night stand or three would help him get over his own stupid fantasies. After all, it'd been a while…

It was with these thoughts circling his mind that he excused himself from the teacher's lounge and made his way to the sport's wing, wanting to catch up with his paperwork. He still had a couple of assessment tests left to brainstorm and the first batch of report cards would have to be sent soon. Yes, that was the thing to do. Work. Get busy. Stop thinking about all this and focus on the job at hand. This method had enabled him to survive all these years and there was no reason why it should fail now. Jee turned a corner that would lead him through the science wing and across the bustling student cafeteria –

- to be greeted with a shout and the sound of a body slamming heavily against a locker.

Jee was in full sprint before he even knew what was happening, pushing past disoriented students to get to the source of the commotion. Judging from the sounds, a fight was already in full swing. Jee took one more turn, sprinted past the chemistry labs towards the closed emergency staircase…

And there he was. Zuko. _Of course_. Surrounded by Tahno, Chan, Ruon-Jon and a couple of thugs Jee didn't recognize, some of them wearing the Flowing Creek football team jackets. They had Xi cornered against the lockers and it looked like they were trying to land a hit on him, but it was one of the football players who had a nasty bruise blossoming on his cheek and was whimpering in pain, trying to stop blood from gushing out of his nose. Zuko stood in readiness, his knees bent and planted firmly on the ground, his left hand in a fist close to his body, his right one put forward, ready to block any punches coming his way. He looked unscathed, but furious as all hell, baring his teeth and all but snarling, his eyes reduced to tiny slits blazing with rage.

There were some terrified students cowering a good distance from the group and looking on with morbid fascination, but only a handful – most of them had the common sense to get the fuck out of there. No educators apart from Jee within eyesight. A quiet, deserted little spot… ideal for beating someone up. Theoretically.

Too bad for them Jee had taken the time to explore all the convenient little nooks and corners of the school to move about quicker. Tough luck, punks, it's your unlucky day…

"You little shit!" yelled Chan just as Jee arrived on the scene, drawing his hand back as if about to deliver a punch. "You're gonna pay for that!"

"Like I did last time?" asked Zuko in a low, dangerous whisper, tensing up. Chan roared and flung himself at him.

Jee only had a moment to react. He shouted an authoritative "HEY!" and jumped to stop the scuffle just as Zuko ducked under Chan's fist and kneed him right in the balls. The lieutenant pushed past the rest of the boys to form a living shield between them and Zuko, just in time – they looked about ready to tear the Xi brat apart.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" roared Jee, holding fast and preventing a furious Zuko from getting past him to lunge at his attackers. "Do you want to get expelled? Fine, be my guest, but at least have the decency to take your stupid brawls outside!"

"He started it!" accused Ruon-Jon, patting a bent-over and mewling Chan on the back. "You saw what he did!"

"Yeah, and I saw your pal there attacking him first. Sure looked like starting it to me."

"Well, he got poor Silas before you got here, sir," Tahno flipped his hair back theatrically and indicated the thug with the nosebleed with an imperial flick of his hand. "It was beastly, sir. I'm so appalled I'm still in shock and will probably have to be sent home to recover."

"Nice try, Tahno. " murmured Jee, feeling Zuko's attempts to reach past him increase, "but the only place you're gonna be sent to is Headmaster Pakku's office. Same goes for you lot."

"I'll make sure they get there," offered Jeong-Jeong from the drama department, who had arrived on the scene in the meantime and loomed ominously over the boys, the wild mane of his white hair making him look like an imperious lion. He then indicated Zuko, who, Jee could guess, was still snarling and decidedly failing to ooze the typical "innocent victim" vibe. "What about this one?"

Jee's mind, or the part of it responsible for all the stupid, self-destructive on-the-spot decisions, which had apparently chosen this moment to activate itself, considered this only for a split of second before taking over Jee's mouth and making him blurt: "I'll take care of him."

Jeong-Jeong eyed him curiously – and even to Jee, who had probably seen more piercing glares in his life than all the kids of Flowing Creek combined, this gaze seemed impressively intimidating – before he nodded with a curt "Very well" and gave Chan and Tahno's group a slight shove to get them moving.

Jee waited for them to pass, then turned around and grabbed Zuko by his arm. The decision was made, it was time to face the fruits of his stupid blunder.

"Come with me," he ordered.

He led the way to the sport's wing, not checking if Zuko followed, and then, after a moment's deliberation, his feet took him out of the building by one of the emergency exits. He took a deep breath and leaned against the wall, facing the football field. They needed to get away from the crowds first and foremost and this was as good a spot as any. Now that the heat had finally subsided and moved to make way for true fall, it was actually bearable to venture outside and the day was nice if a little cloudy, with some wind blowing in the colder, November air. It was still warm enough not to need jackets.

And yeah, maybe he shouldn't deal with Zuko on his own like that, especially with that _thing_ they had-and-hadn't going, but he really didn't want to send the brat to Pakku again in such a short time for a fight Jee was fairly certain Zuko did not initiate… and, well, perhaps this was a good opportunity for them to have a serious word or two, just like he'd decided before he stumbled across that fight.

Maybe it was a sign. Or something.

Jee waited for Zuko to join him by the wall and did not say anything for a while, waiting for the boy to calm his murderous instincts a bit and start making sense. Finally satisfied with the sound of Zuko's breathing returning more or less to normal, he asked, looking straight ahead at the empty field:

"So what was it about this time?"

"That's not any of your business," snapped Zuko, kicking a convenient stone as though it had Chan's face painted on it.

"See, that's where you're wrong, kid," Jee shrugged, still not looking at him – if he had, he might have gotten flashbacks of his fantasies involving Zuko again and this was definitely NOT the time and place. "Personally I don't give a fuck, but as your teacher, I need to know what's going on. You can explain either to me or to Headmaster Pakku. Call me a big softie, but I didn't want you to get in trouble with him again so soon. Your choice, though."

For a while, Zuko didn't respond. Maybe he was too angry, maybe he was choking on his own rebellious spirit or maybe he was stumped by Jee swearing so easily in front of him. But Jee, for obscure reasons he really didn't want to dwell on, wanted them to talk on a equal-to-equal basis here and hopefully Zuko would get that from his politically-incorrect attitude.

It seemed that he did.

"I don't think anyone would call you a big softie," he whispered, his voice hoarse as usual.

Jee smirked to himself. "No, I guess not."

"They started it," Zuko's voice grew loud and indignant again, and then the boy added, probably emboldened by Jee's anti-didactic attitude: "Those fucking bastards."

Jee did look at him then, a short, fleeting glance, the smirk still in place, but he didn't say anything to admonish the boy, weird though it was to hear him swear so openly. The air was clearer between them now than it had been for weeks and he wanted to encourage this development. It could give him a potentially good opening to broach the subject of their… whatever the hell it was.

"They pushed me against the lockers when they passed me. Tried to steal my iPod and smash it against the wall. So I stopped them."

"And gave Mr. Silas a nice broken nose as a souvenir," Jee commented, careful to keep his voice neutral, non-judging. "Why would they do that in the first place?"

Zuko shrugged and leaned back against the wall, following his teacher's example. "They've hated me from day one," he admitted matter-of-factly. "I guess they're afraid I'd try and steal their rightful title of top bad guys of the school. As if I gave a fuck about this stupid place."

Jee looked at him properly then, a longer, searching look. Zuko had his head bowed, but he stood with his scarred profile to Jee and though the hair hid his infamous scar partially from view, it still peeked at Jee, red and angry and foreboding.

_Yeah, I can see why they would think that_, he thought. It was easy to imagine the rest. Zuko's temper could be described by many adjectives, but "mild" and "forgiving" were not among them. With those guys around for over three years, it was a wonder the school was still standing.

Not to mention this situation felt quite ironically familiar. It was odd to see himself in Zuko, but there it was. Jee remembered being in a similar position all too well. He knew how that felt. Knew how it was to want to grab the world by its throat and squeeze until there was nothing, absolutely nothing left…

"I could always hold my own against them," added Zuko in a low whisper, still gazing at the grass beneath his Nike sneakers. "And it just pisses them off even more."

Ah, yes. This, too, was familiar. High school may not have been the worst period of Jee's life, but only because he had the Navy to compare it to. It was its own special brand of hell, really, and if you were unfortunate enough to be unpopular one…

Maybe that was Zuko's problem: that he didn't have anyone to talk to about it. It was a wild guess, but seemed plausible enough. There was the uncle, of course, and he seemed like the kind of guy every child ran to with the tiniest thing, but then again, Zuko was so painfully different from the old man that perhaps he didn't feel very close to him, not close enough to really open up. There were thousands of kids like that: lost and angry, thinking they had no one to turn to and that they had to deal with life's shit on their own.

Jee knew. He used to be one of them.

"You have a knack for making enemies," he commented softly. He didn't add _Just like me_, but it was on the tip of his tongue.

Zuko shrugged. "Yeah, well. I don't care. I can take any of them. I didn't need your help."

Jee graced this adolescent remark with a frown. Not that he didn't expect this kind of attitude; he knew it was coming and a part of him half wanted to start reminiscing at the boy, to show him that they were not so very different and that Jee could partly see where he was coming from. But coddling was the last thing Zuko needed now and besides, it would perhaps push their boundaries another few inches, which Jee really could not allow. The lieutenant may have been sympathetic to the kid's situation, but he was also the educator here and needed to set the boy straight, casual atmosphere or not.

"All eight of them at once?" he asked, at which Zuko shrugged again. "That's impressive. But, you know, in your situation it would be wiser not to attract incidents like the one I interrupted. I know they started it this time, but I'm not sure that was the case with Tahno last week. I know from Headmaster Pakku that you didn't cause trouble before, so I can't help but wonder…" Jee took a deep breath and went for it. "Is there anything you need to talk to me about?"

It was fascinating, Zuko's body language. Jee didn't know if he'd ever met anyone more easy to read than Zuko and more puzzling at the same time. The boy tensed up so visibly he must have grown an inch with his head still bowed – Jee could see a vein pulsing in his neck.

_Ah-ha. I got you, kiddo_. _Your move now_.

As it turned out, however, Zuko refused to take the bait.

"Why would there be anything I'd want to tell _you_?" asked the boy quietly, the sudden tightness in his voice impossible to miss.

Jee sighed. Well, he gave Zuko an opening there. It wasn't his fault the brat didn't want to make a use of it.

"I don't know. You tell me." And then, after a moment of internal battle, he reached into the zipped pocket of his tracksuit and pulled out his packet of cigarettes and a lighter. "You want a smoke?"

Zuko looked at him as though Jee suggested that he eat his own foot. Or propositioned him outwardly. And he had good reason to.

_Just look at that scarred eye. Couldn't open it any wider if he tried, even when he's shocked. Christ, what on Earth _happened_ to you, kid? And why didn't your rich, powerful Daddy raise all hell in repercussion? What did you do to piss him off this much?_

"Are you serious?" asked Zuko incredulously, still looking at Jee as if the man had sprung two extra heads in the meantime. "You're offering me _cigarettes_?"

"I find them quite calming, myself," replied Jee, taking care to appear as nonchalant as possible. "There are no cameras out here. Nobody'd know. I figured you could use one."

Zuko tore his eyes away from him. "I don't smoke," he murmured sullenly, but Jee was fairly sure he did not imagine the slight shadow of a smile about to fight his way onto Zuko's lips before the kid rapidly looked away.

Good. That was the goal. Gain his trust, treat him like an adult and maybe he'll open up bit by bit…

"You really are something else," whispered Zuko. "You could get fired for that."

"It wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to me, kid, believe me."

"Well, yeah," Zuko's shoulders slumped somewhat as his voice grew softer. "I can imagine. Nobody in their right mind would choose to live here if they had a say in it. Especially not after the army… or the Navy."

Jee took another long look at him, lighting his own cigarette, and then gazed back to the football field. _And just how much do you know about the army, eh?_ he thought. _Did Daddy take you for his social calls to the barracks? Did you have tea with the high officers while they pinched your cheeks and fussed over how much you've grown? Did you tell them you want to be a soldier when you grow up?_

"It's not all bad," he said instead, letting out a comforting puff of smoke. "Could be worse. Could be some dump with nothing but houses and grocery stores for miles and miles."

Then they were silent for a while, both of them, Jee smoking and Zuko just standing there, leaning against the wall, gazing off into space. It felt… strangely comfortable, actually, for a given value of comfortable. There was a bit of tension there, but nothing like the kind Jee sometimes felt in class, and for once, Zuko was not frowning or shouting at anyone. The cigarette achieved its aim – it put the boy as much at ease as possible. It implied _trust_, ensured him that Jee didn't want to treat him as just another student when they were in private and relied on him not to blab to someone from the staff. It created a special something, a secret to share between them, a space that was just their own.

And okay, maybe it was the wrong message to send and quite contrary to what Jee wanted to establish between them, but it seemed crucial in creating the right sort of mood to tell Zuko to stop with his… weird interest. Yes. This was the perfect opportunity. They were alone here, no one would walk in on them, no security cameras would record their conversation and Zuko, for once, seemed responsive.

He should do it now. Tell the kid to stop and give up. _Right now_, while the silence lasted.

Jee took a deeper breath and opened his mouth to say something to this effect, simultaneously gearing himself up for an angry outburst, but Zuko beat him to it.

"You really hate it here, don't you," he whispered, a stronger gust of wind almost intercepting his words and scattering them across the football field. "This exile. Just like me."

This… was not the direction Jee had planned for this conversation to go. _Exile_?

"Doesn't matter if I do or don't," said the older man eventually. "I'm here. I've got a job to do. Nobody cared how I felt about things. That's just how it works."

"Should I do the same, then?" Zuko looked up to him then, suddenly challenging, anger once again bubbling to the surface. "Give up, assimilate? _Stop fighting_?"

"And just who or what _are_ you fighting, kid? And why?"

Zuko didn't seem to like those questions at all. Suddenly, he was up at arms again, his walls rising immediately, his body becoming a tower ready to be defended from a siege. He straightened up, detached himself from the wall, stood facing Jee with his chin raised in defiance.

"You don't know anything," he gritted out.

_I know more than you'd want me to_.

"You're right, I don't. Nor do I care," Jee lied, matching Zuko glare for glare.

"Then why did you drag me out here? What do you _want_ from me?"

_I want to kiss you_, flashed through Jee's mind like a lightning, fast, blinding and destructive. _I want to pull your pants down and take you right here and now, up against this wall. And I know you want me to._ Zuko was all up in his personal space now, anger incarnate, his nostrils flaring, his amazing eyes so very bright… and his face heating up, perhaps not only from the building tantrum.

_Do you fantasize about _me_, boy? What visions do _you_ touch yourself to?_ – Those were precisely the kind of questions that should not cross Jee's mind at the moment, but they still did.

Maybe Zuko saw something of Jee's thoughts reflected in his eyes; he tensed up all over again, but didn't back down. His healthy cheek was beginning to turn a rather fetching shade of red. His lips, the older man noticed, were slightly parted.

It would be so laughably easy to lean in now and close them with Jee's own. So very easy. It wouldn't even take a second. And there was the possibility that he'd read the signs all wrong and that Zuko would push him away, but Jee was betting that he wouldn't and then it could get _really_ interesting…

Damn it. Damn it all to hell. He was messing everything up here. He allowed himself to slip and Zuko saw that, he _must have_ seen this sudden flare of desire, he was so close…

"I only wanted to talk to you," said Jee heavily, closing his eyes for a second and sighing deeply. He took the cigarette from his mouth and snuffed it on the ground with his shoe to play for time and calm his racing thoughts, Zuko still standing way too close for comfort. "Like I said, I didn't want you to get in trouble again. Try not to get into any more fights this month, is all I'm saying. I'm not going to be there to save your butt every time, Xi."

Zuko was gazing at him, his angry scowl smoothening gradually into something less wild and threatening. He was _confused_, Jee realized with a sudden jolt. He didn't know what to make of this situation. He felt the sudden change in the air, detected the oily taste of growing desire, and now it had shifted all over again and he didn't know why or how or what was going on…

"I told you," he said, still frowning, but didn't take a step back. He was either very brave or incredibly stupid, or, quite possibly, both. "I don't need you to save my butt. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. I just don't want you to get expelled."

"And why do _you_ care?"

"You're my student. That's my job."

And then Zuko's expression changed again. The scar made it nearly impossible to read, but there was no question that the mood around them underwent another transformation. The difference was subtle, but it was there, charging the air around them with a strange kind of electricity Jee was all too familiar with.

As if to emphasize this, Zuko took a step even _closer_. He was nearly face to face with Jee now. Would have been, had he been taller. Jee could feel the warmth of his breath on his chin.

Which meant he could also see the scar up close, in more detail than he'd ever seen it before, and let it suffice to say the view was _not_ appealing. Jee's eyes escaped from its stark, repelling ugliness to Zuko's healthy eye almost immediately and as soon as they did, the man felt a pang of remorse. So he prayed that the kid wouldn't spot this moment of weakness and forced himself to meet him eye-to-eye, though what he probably should have done was back away a step. Or ten.

"And you're sure that's it, Lieutenant?" asked Zuko in a whisper that was low and disturbingly soft and – Christ Almighty, it sounded _sensual_. "There's nothing more?"

_Now_, some part of Jee's brain screamed at him. _Here's your opening. Take it. Tell him to back off. He's all but rubbing against you. That's the most provocative he'll get. He's your student, for God's sake. You're the authority figure here. Tell him to stop this, end it now. _

And there was the other part of him, which screamed even louder: _Kiss him. Kiss him now. He's begging for it. Taste him, see if his skin is really as soft as it looks. _

And Jee subconsciously leaned in, ready to do one or the other…

… and, in the end, did neither.

"No," he said quietly and took a belated step back, feeling suddenly heavy, pathetic and very, very old. "There's nothing more."

"Oh." Zuko eyed him for a moment more before stepping back himself, looking oddly deflated. Anger, lust, whatever it was that drove him just a moment before, was gone now and only confusion remained. When Jee looked back at him after a moment, he saw questions there, and puzzlement, and he didn't have the strength to give the boy any answers.

"You should go," he said, leaning back against the wall. "You'll miss your classes."

Zuko left soundlessly a moment later – Jee didn't even notice him go, too busy staring at the ground under his feet.

God, he was so pathetic.

That was during lunch break before his free fourth period. Zuko's class was next. And it was hell, pretending that nothing happened, even if Zuko's attackers never made it to class; because he still had to look at Zuko and saw those questions there, and then he had to look away every single time, feeling like a wretched coward.

At least it was Wednesday. Which meant no Dancing Dragon meeting. He could just go home after the next class and…

But he did not end up staying home that evening. With the night already spilled in black ink outside, he drove up to a club he found on the Internet, in the shadier part of Summerfield, and sat at the bar, looking from one face to another, searching for someone to warm his bed for the night, his veins screaming in restlessness. He even allowed himself to be chatted up and then led to the restrooms by a handsome, muscular blonde about thirty years old. They made out in a smelly, dirty cubicle to the beat of monotonous, primal music thrumming above their heads from the dance floor and to the sounds of other people fucking in the cubicles next to theirs – but Jee left before it got serious, feeling even more frustrated than before.

This was not what he needed. It didn't give him any relief. It only made him feel more hollow.

At least it wasn't Zuko he dreamt of that night, but Steven – Steven, who had practically shared Jee's bunk for nearly four years and whose last words to him had been to lighten up, it was all going to be fine, before the message came that some Afghan bastards blew him up in the desert. And it was only just before Jee woke up with a gasp that Steven's plain, sun-burnt face changed and blurred into a smoother, paler one, with a pair of golden eyes boring right into Jee and slender, strong, ghostly fingers trailing down his cheek.

* * *

**A/N 2**: As usual, many, many warm thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Your feedback is to my writing like chocolate is to my body. Indispensable.

Up next: We get to the Music Night proper, there shall be lots of Ming and Zuko will believe he can fly. Till then, everyone!


	8. Chapter 6: Music Night

**A/N**: First of all, I'd like to once again thank unjapanologist for cracking me up with her AU illustration for chapter 5 in which Zuko doesn't refuse the cigarette. You should all see it, guys, it's hilarious. The link is in my profile.

What can you expect in this chapter? More Jasmine Dragon shenanigans,a fair bit of Ming, Jin being concerned, Mako and Asami making brief (and probably only) cameos, Kyoshi Warriors bringing in the awesome, Jee not appreciating poetry and Zuko being jealous. Brief warning: there is a small mention of past Jetko and there'll probably be more to come, so if it's not your cup of tea, uh, sorry?

* * *

When they pulled up in Ming's car on across the street from the Jasmine Dragon, the teashop looked positively festive. A string of lanterns shone bright yellow above the entrance and the whole place glowed like a colorful beacon in the dark, putting the buildings surrounding it to shame. Music could already be heard pouring out into the street as the two of them got out of the car.

"Iroh Xi sure knows how to throw a party," murmured Jee as he offered Ming his arm and led her to the teashop.

"Oh yeah, he's famous for it. Not only in the Asian district."

_No,_ Jee thought. The _Army would have quite a lot to say about Iroh's parties, too_.

A blackboard stood by the entrance bearing a chalk invitation to the monthly Music Night, with the names of bands performing this evening listed below. There were three, with one of them currently entertaining everyone in the teashop.

The décor had been suitably changed for the occasion, as Jee noted when he led Ming inside. There were more lanterns, for starters, and lit candles on every table. Colorful garlands hung from the ceiling together with jasmine flowers and dragons made of origami. About half the tables had been cleared away to make space at the back for a makeshift wooden stage cluttered with electronic equipment, cables and musical instruments, leaving precious little room for the performers. They didn't seem to mind; caught in the middle of a lively rock ballad, all they apparently cared about was their music.

Jee gazed at their faces and tried to remember the names, but the only people he recognized were the drummer, whom he had in second period, and the singer, Molly Zei, from Jee's third period. The music was good, had a pleasant hard edge to it and Molly had a surprisingly strong voice for such a sweet, frail-looking girl – she looked right at home on that stage.

"I love that song," confessed Ming, guiding her companion to a table by the door – one of the few which still remained vacant. The party had been going on for only an hour and already the Jasmine Dragon was packed with joyous music-and-tea lovers, not all of them Asian.

"Never heard it," Jee took a seat and allowed himself a quick study of the staff.

He spotted Zuko lounging against the wall next to the kitchen doors, arms crossed over his chest, a rag hanging from his hand. Jee looked at him until Zuko met his gaze, then smiled and nodded in silent greeting.

There. This should take care of any potential awkwardness – at least in theory.

"No?" Ming looked hilariously appalled. "You're kidding! They play it over and over on the radio. It's quite a good cover, too. I think I like this version even better."

"It's decent," Jee conceded. "Would never peg Molly for a stage animal."

"Who knows what dark secrets lurk under innocent exteriors. Look at her go. She's amazing."

Jee nodded and scanned the teashop for other familiar faces. A large burst of youthful laughter from the opposite side of the shop caught his attention – seated by two joint tables there were Aang, Katara, Sokka, Haru, a kid in a wheelchair Jee didn't know and Suki, together with a group of girls Jee remembered seeing in the corridors. Some of them were in his third period, too. He was surprised to see they all wore similar fancy outfits, identical to Suki's, in various shades of green, and a few of them were applying make-up which, at this stage, looked more like traditional warrior face-paint or something Kiss fans could wear.

Intrigued, he nudged Ming and indicated the noisy, colorful bunch. "Do you know anything about this?"

"Oh!" Ming's eyes lit up in excitement. "The Kyoshi Warriors! Suki started them. They all come from Kyoshi Street here in Summerfield. They're a sort of gang, but not of the troublemaking kind. Suki teaches them everything she knows about self-defense and they follow her like a pack of fangirls. Apparently, some of them are good musicians and dancers, too. They've been performing at Iroh's for some time now. You're in for a treat, Jee. They're really good."

"And the crazy face-paint?"

"Their stage signature. Goes with their music really well. They use props, too. You'll see."

Some of the kids at Suki's table spotted them in the meantime; Aang grinned and waved, Katara inclined her head politely and smiled, Haru did the same and Sokka actually saluted. Jee nodded at them in acknowledgement and continued his teashop survey, curious what other familiar faces he might spot.

A few teachers, some students here and there, quite a lot of strangers…

Ah, and of course, the Pai Sho club all gathered in the corner. There was no mistaking Iroh's robust, heartfelt laughter. Him, Pakku, Piandao, Jeong-Jeong, even Bumi the physics teacher, better known among the Flowing Creek personnel as The Nutter (and for a good reason; Jee had the misfortune of talking to him a couple of times and always left feeling short of a few brain cells) – they were all there, engaged in a game. Not the Pai Sho thing this time, but cards. Jee briefly debated whether or not to stroll over and say hello, but decided against it for the time being. The old buggers would no doubt spot him soon enough and Jee suspected that their entire gang unleashing their venerable company on him all at once would be rather more than he could handle without a drink in his hand – and then there was the question of Iroh himself. Jee didn't feel all that eager to talk to him face to face again. Knowing his rotten mouth, he might just slip and address the man as "sir" or blurt out something to the effect of _Did you know your nephew probably has a daddy kink?_

No. It was better to avoid the old bugger for as long as he could.

"Here, take a look at the card," suggested Ming, pushing said item towards Jee. "I already know what I want."

"I was rather banking on you ordering for both of us," Jee admitted, taking the card and giving it a skeptical once-over. "That's what people did whenever they dragged me in here."

"Not a tea enthusiast?"

"Not by a long stretch. But… that's not their usual card, is it? There are only two types of tea here and some cocktails…"

Ming smiled. "That's because Iroh prepares a special blend for each Music Night," she explained. "The first cup's always on the house. I think it's his way of experimenting. Sometimes his Music Night creations make it to the main menu, sometimes they don't. He always gets incredibly excited about the whole thing."

"You don't say." Jee sighed. "I'll take whatever you're having. Can't really tell one fruit tea from another. Usually I just grab the first thing from the shelf."

"Don't worry," Ming patted his hand comfortingly. "It won't be long now before they serve alcohol. You'll feel better then."

Jee smirked skeptically. "That a promise?"

Ming beamed at him.

This could be a good moment to introduce the subject of his true preferences, Jee thought fleetingly. He had to do it soon, while the evening was still young and before she got more emboldened. It wasn't fair to lead her on like that any longer. He could casually ask about her relationships and then squeeze somewhere in there, subtly, that she looked really lovely tonight – which she did – but she wasn't exactly his type, sorry…

"Are you ready to order?"

Jee nearly jumped out of his seat. How on Earth did Zuko get to their table so quietly? Honestly, sometimes Jee was ready to swear the brat was a fucking secret ninja-in-training.

"Hi there, Zuko," greeted him Ming easily, leaning back in her chair. "Good to see you. What's this new chocolate extravaganza?"

Zuko shrugged, shooting Jee a furtive glance and something which could, in proper lighting and by someone in a benevolent frame of mind, be considered a shadow of smile. "Uncle's going on and on about it," he said disinterestedly. "Made me try it. It's okay, I guess."

"Honestly, kid," Ming laughed and shook her head. "How can you work and live in a teashop and sound so _bored_ about it?"

"You would sound bored, too, if you lived here, miss," replied the boy softly, his face settling into a full frown.

"I guess you and Jee here would have a lot to talk about."

It was almost comical, the way they both shot identical looks at each other in the very same moment, and then looked away just as quickly. Good thing no one was likely to have a reason to study their mannerisms more closely – otherwise they would have just given them some serious incriminating evidence.

Acting like a culprit even despite his continuous refusal to commit the crime. Good going, Jee, real good going.

"We'll both have the chocolate thing, then," decided Ming in the meanwhile, seemingly oblivious to the awkward moment she'd sparked. "I'm curious. Aren't you, Heng?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Sure. Why not."

And it was then, as Jee realized in hindsight, that the situation shifted from awkward-but-bearable to shit suddenly hitting the fan. Zuko gave him a longer look, longer and _searching_, his eyes narrowing and darkening as he inspected both Jee and Ming.

… _Oh_.

Well, damn. There was no question of how this would look to the kid. And now Ming went and called Jee by his first name, something nearly no one apart from his mother did. Not even his lovers.

The brat would draw all the wrong conclusions, _of course he would_ – indeed, was clearly doing so already. Jee fancied he could look past the layers of hair and skin and flesh right into his brain and see the cogs and wheels turning, the thoughts rapidly acquiring a scarlet hue; could imagine the sudden tightness in Zuko's chest so well as though it were his own.

Jealousy was a nasty, nasty feeling. And it sneered right at Jee from the Xi boy's eyes.

The lieutenant felt like swearing. This had the potential to turn into something really, really bad, not to mention it could undo whatever progress they had managed to achieve in their relations. Which, granted, was not exactly stellar, but still, there was no denying the atmosphere between them had shifted after their lunch break talk – Zuko's staring got less obtrusive, he no longer reacted to everything by blowing up in anger and seemed, in fact, more... not subdued, exactly – that would have been about as possible as Zhao distributing non-poisonous candy – but contemplative, maybe? When Jee did catch him looking his way, it was no longer the disturbing heat he'd grown familiar with, but honest-to-God curiosity, though sometimes mingled with something darker.

And that was understandable. He must have confused the hell out of the kid that afternoon.

The point was, Jee really wanted to get _somewhere_ with him, and not necessarily the bedroom anymore. He wanted to _help_, especially now that he'd gotten a glimpse of a true person behind the ball of anger and had an inkling as to what could be done. Especially since he'd begun to suspect that, for all his outward bravado, Zuko must have struggled with his own feelings and felt confused by them – that would explain the erratic, unpredictable behavior. Jee understood, or at least he thought he did. The boy was _seventeen_. He had every right to feel disoriented and conflicted over his own urges, even more so if he had not had a boyfriend before – and frankly, Jee couldn't see that happening. The sexuality conflict was another area that, with a bit of empathy and goodwill, Jee could perhaps aid him in, or at least soothe the transition somewhat until the boy grew into his skin; he remembered being confused like that himself all too well.

It would be a painstakingly slow process, but they had already taken the first step. Which could go to waste now, incinerated with this one, violent spark of jealousy. It would be all to easy for Zuko to extend it into betrayal.

And yes, Jee had initially wanted to drive him away at all costs, even if it meant hurting his feelings in the process, but now…

"Anyone joining you?" asked Zuko quietly, glancing first to Jee and then down at the floor, thus confirming all of Jee's suspicions. _Fuck._

"I don't think so, no," Ming sent the boy a winning smile.

Zuko's jaw visibly tightened as he bowed his head even lower.

"Right," he whispered and stalked off without a second glance at either of them.

And for one, horrible second Jee was gripped by a sudden, suicidal, inexplicable need to go run after him.

_Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot_…

A soft sigh from Ming made him turn – she was also looking after Zuko's retreating back, her expression sad.

"Don't you sometimes wish you knew what makes that boy tick?" she whispered, supporting her chin on her palm.

"Yes. Frequently." And if that wasn't the understatement of the year, Jee'd eat his own sideburns.

"Oh right, he's in your classes. I never had him as a student, but I'm a frequent visitor here and a bit of a friend of Iroh's and it just seems…"

She never did finish the thought, but shook her head, looking wistful.

Okay, Jee had to be careful there and not jump on the topic too eagerly. His best bet was to change it, however much he wanted to gossip about Zuko with someone who'd been there to watch the kid through all his years in Summerfield. Better not display overt interest.

"He's a tough one," he conceded, shrugging to boost the nonchalance factor and swinging one arm over the chair, "but I've met many people like that before. Well, maybe not _exactly _like him, but I know how to deal with them. You should have seen some of the guys in Navy boot camp, they make Zuko look like a meek nerd."

Ming smiled a very crooked smile at that. "I'm sure you were one of them, you big troublemaker."

"Oh, you have no idea," Jee returned the smirk.

"So how did you end up there in the first place?"

Jee shrugged again, looking down at the table. "Seemed like a good career choice at the time," he murmured. "I was young and stupid, I wanted to get out of home like crazy and my mom couldn't afford to send me to college. The Navy was a better choice than cleaning the toilets at Wendy's and seemed like a good way to start over, see the world, get somewhere. The pay was good, too, and the benefits, you know: all the perks they give you for your willingness go to get yourself killed. I was never ambitious _or_ fanatical enough to try and join the Marines, the Navy was more than enough."

_It could get me well away from mom and gave her a reason to be proud from a good distance, so everyone was happy_.

"It helped set me straight," he continued, glancing up at Ming. "I used to be one hell of a brat."

"Care to tell me more?" His companion smiled in encouragement, her eyes lighting up.

"Maybe some other time," Jee returned the smile. "You gotta let me keep some of that enigmatic aura. Can't spill all the secrets on the first evening, now can I?"

" 'Enough about me, let's talk about you', eh?" Ming chuckled, but then her gaze fell on the door to the teashop and she perked up so visibly that Jee's response died on his lips.

"Well, would you look at that," whistled the woman. "Bolin's older bro is back in town!"

"Who?"

Ming pointed to Suki's table, which now gained four more occupants in the shape of Korra, Bolin and a couple Jee didn't know, visibly older than the rest of the kids: a tall, lean boy sporting a red scarf and an elegant girl with stunning hair and even lovelier face.

"That's Mako," explained Ming. "He's in college now. I used to teach him. Good at MMA. And this must be the Sato girl. Rumor has it her daddy paid for Mako's tuition and is going to pay for Bolin's, too, just because his daughter is dating one of them… Mako got a sport's scholarship anyway, but I guess those guys can use all the help they can get."

Ming then launched herself into a lengthy tale about the circumstances of Bolin and his brother, then started talking about Aang and a few of her other students, displaying the easy, conversationalist style Jee enjoyed about her so much. His companion was witty, funny and had no qualms whatsoever about mixing factual information with the most outrageous gossip; Jee learned more about his own students then than he would have discovered on his own during the whole academic year. About some of the teachers, too, and perhaps more than he really wanted to know. Like that bit about Mrs. "Aunt" Wu, the widowed student counselor, flirting shamelessly with Iroh at every given opportunity.

"I'm surprised she's not around," commented Ming, craning her neck to look around the teashop. "She usually comes to these things regularly. You should see poor Zuko's face when them two love birds are at it. It's hilarious. And it's not only old Aunt Wu, actually, though she is his favorite. Iroh is just a big flirt in general. It's all rather sweet."

And during all this, she never once gave Jee the opening he needed to steer the conversation in the direction of his homosexuality. He didn't want to spring it at her out of the blue, so he decided to resign himself to the situation and be patient. A right moment would come.

Zuko came over sometime into the conversation, gave them their tea and left without a word, like a mute slave in some sultan's court, without one look at Ming or Jee. The lieutenant tried not to glance after him this time. With Ming distracting him, it was much easier.

In the meantime, Molly and her band were replaced on the stage by Suki's Kyohoshi Fighters or whatever it was they called themselves. The girls, all wearing the ridiculously strong, theatrical make-up and identical outfits, ascended the podium to a thunder of applause and enthusiastic cheering, the loudest coming from Aang's table. Iroh came up on stage with them to thank the previous band and present Suki's, but from the crowd's reaction, he hardly needed to – Jee seemed to be among the very few who had not heard them play yet.

"Go, Suki!" shouted Sokka, nearly standing on the table and obviously taking great pains to be heard above the noise; his girlfriend laughed and blew him a kiss, to which the crowd reacted even more loudly.

"They're playing traditional Asian folk and sometimes add a bit of a modern touch to it," explained Ming. "Wonder if they're gonna do the fan dance… Oh yes, they are!"

Jee looked to where she pointed, the sweet, lukewarm taste of the last drop of his chocolate tea dropping down his throat. Iroh and a few of the staff, a silent and grumpy Zuko included, were clearing a small space in front of the podium, pushing the front-most tables back a bit. Not only did the tables' occupants not mind – they were eagerly cooperating. Clearly whatever was about to take place was very popular.

Jee's eye was then drawn to the instruments the girls were tuning. He was hardly an expert on his own culture, but they looked like traditional folk instruments.

"How did they manage to get their hands on _that_?" he asked skeptically. "Looks like expensive stuff."

"Iroh funded it. He's a great supporter of the arts. Took Suki's band and a couple others under his wing after they first performed here."

Jee frowned.

"Ming," he asked slowly, careful about how to phrase his next question, "don't you ever wonder how the owner of a teashop could afford all this?"

The woman shrugged. "It's a very successful teashop. And I guess he's got some cash stacked on the side. Maybe he gets a good pension. Never wondered about it, actually. Everyone's happier now that Iroh's in town. He's really done a great deal to liven up the community here."

"Obviously," Jee murmured, glancing over to Iroh, who was now busy chatting with a middle-aged couple by one of the tables. "And you're not even curious?"

"Of course I am, just a bit. But as long as he's doing so much good, I see no reason to probe. Now cheer up and enjoy the show, you grumpy bugger."

With a resigned sigh, Jee did as he was told, tearing his eyes away from Iroh and focusing on the stage. A few of the girls were on the podium and starting a wistful, melancholy tune with drums, flutes and pipas while the others stood in a formation below and began to move in a slow, precise, complicated routine, each wielding two golden fans. Suki led the dancing group, graceful, focused and strangely unearthly under the face-paint.

It was… objectively beautiful, Jee had to admit. The music had a certain hypnotizing quality to it – slow and modest, it conveyed the melody with only a few, sparse sounds, and the girls with the fans moved to the beats but also to the ones that were not played, reacting to the intervals between sounds as though those, too, were drum beats. It looked less like a dance and more like a mix between that and a fight – their movements had strength behind them, and a concentration that made Jee think of true martial arts masters while they practiced their art. The subdued, color-tinted light played with shadows across their painted faces, giving the whole spectacle an otherworldly atmosphere.

It was… well, it was _poetry_. Poetry of sound and movement. And though Jee appreciated the art, he had never been much of a poetry lover to begin with – a highly practical man, he was of the opinion that it made life unnecessary complicated. People wasting their life trying to find the perfect rhyme to describe a hyacinth tended to irritate him. Whenever he was confronted with such kind of poetry, a part of his brain kept insisting that instead of scribbling such nonsense, the author could have gotten off his distinguished butt and done some really useful work for a change. In Jee's uneducated opinion, poetry should be about people; about the filth as well as the glamour; something that could speak to _everyone_, even those who had never seen a college lecture room. Simple verses, powerful exactly because they were straightforward, and melodies one could whistle in the shower and that stuck with a man for years and years, was what he understood, what he connected to, in music as in all arts, the martial ones included. The performance of Suki's friends, while undeniably beautiful and oddly mesmerizing at first, felt rather too much like the other, more elevated type of poetry for Jee to really get into it. After the second dance, very similar to the first one, his attention started to drift.

And that was when he spotted Zuko again. The boy was leaning against the wall behind the podium, in its shadow, his expression silently thunderous and also strangely desolate. He was holding something, a bottle of some kind, and taking sip after sip from it, staring straight at Jee's table.

Caught red-handed, the boy looked flustered and embarrassed for a second before he apparently decided to abscond to the kitchen – he straightened up and made his way to the back door, supporting himself against the wall with one hand.

Jee felt himself frown. Was it just him, or was the kid's walk a little… wobbly?

What the fuck was in that bottle?

"Enjoying yourselves?" a pleasant, familiar voice tore Jee out of his gloomy reverie; he looked up into the beaming face of Iroh Xi. It was rather like looking at a smiling old apple with an overabundance of facial hair.

"Yes, thank you, Iroh," replied Ming. "This new tea is delicious."

"I'm overjoyed you like it, dear. Apologies for not having greeted you right away. I would have, but you two looked like you'd appreciate some privacy, if you know what I mean," Iroh winked at both of them more lecherously than should have been possible for a man his age.

Ming laughed, clearly pleased with the assumption. "That's quite all right, we managed to entertain ourselves somehow," she said light-heartedly, sending Jee a warm, affectionate smile.

"So I saw. You're a very lucky man, Lieutenant!" the older man clapped Jee soundly on the back. "Ming is a wonderful girl."

Jee tried on a smile, making an effort so it wouldn't appear strained. "She must be a very good actress, then. She's just pretending to be nice to get free tea."

"Yeah, I'm a pretty mean hag to most men," Ming shrugged, winking at Iroh. "But I do love your tea, so you're the exception."

"My dear, you make me wish I was twenty years younger," the teashop owner laughed his deep, disarming laugh, patting himself on his belly.

"Oh, I don't know, Iroh," Ming raised her empty cup to him with a smirk. "I hear your ladyfriends are not complaining."

The retired major general was just about to answer with something lewd – it was painfully obvious in his sly-old-fox expression – when a deafening crash from the kitchen interrupted him.

"Oh dear," said the man, his expression suddenly gravely concerned as everyone whipped their heads in the direction of the noise. "I'd better check what's happened… please excuse me."

Jee swallowed, fighting the sudden tightness in his throat. For a heartbeat he had to struggle with the urge to get up and see what was going on – _if Zuko was okay_. And instantly, he hated himself for it.

In the meanwhile, the Kyoshi girls did one more dance and then Suki got up on stage, discarding her fans and pulling up a small drum from behind a speaker.

"All right, guys," she said into the microphone, "how about some _real_ fun?"

And, among many whoops and cheers and whistling from the audience, she started a fast, thrumming beat which the girls onstage picked up almost immediately. One of the other dancers also got up on stage, replaced Suki by the microphone and started singing in Japanese. Her friends sang in harmony with her from time to time and it wasn't long before Aang pulled Katara to the open space by the podium to dance. Other couples joined them in time, the music being perfect for dancing. Before he even realized it, Jee's foot picked up the rhythm.

Now this – _this_ he understood.

Iroh returned from the kitchen after a while and sat back down with his Pai Sho friends, but he no longer oozed his typical benevolent cheer. Jee, who eyed him closely, noticed it immediately, even though Iroh was taking great pains to appear his normal, jovial self.

Something was wrong.

What happened next only ensured Jee in this sentiment – it wasn't Zuko who appeared by their table, but the braid-sporting girl with big boobs Jee had seen here before.

"Would you like anything else to drink?" she asked with a winning smile, brandishing a notebook. "Mr. Xi says it's time to serve the cocktails."

Ming declined, explaining she was the driver, but Jee ignored the card entirely and asked, trying to appear disinterested and probably failing quite epically:

"Where's Zuko?"

For the shortest of seconds, the girl looked decidedly uneasy before she schooled her face into her former, friendly expression. Immediately, all of Jee's instincts went on the alert.

And was it his imagination, or did she just send him a _very_ assessing look?

"He's, um, he's not feeling so great," she explained a little nervously. "He took a break."

"It's nothing serious, though, is it?" asked Ming before Jee could say anything.

The waitress chuckled even more nervously. "Oh no, ma'am," she assured, though to Jee's suspicious eye she didn't seem so assured herself. "He'll be fine. He only needs a little rest. It's my pleasure to serve you for the rest of the evening. My name is Jin."

"Good to meet you, Jin," said Ming pleasantly. "Do you go to Flowing Creek? I think I've seen you around the school…"

Jee stopped listening. His eyes flew to the doors to the kitchen, drawn to them as though by an invisible magnet. Suddenly, he knew he wouldn't be able to spend the rest of the night in peace until he found out for himself exactly what the hell was going on.

_I'm so hopeless_, he thought, absent-mindedly tugging at a sideburn. _And I don't think I even care anymore._

And the fact was, he _was_ a bit of a snooper; he had reconciled himself to this part of his personality long ago. More often than not, it had gotten him in trouble, but right now, curiosity was stronger than common sense.

He waited a bit after Ming ordered something for herself and Jin wandered away before he stood up with a short "Restroom. Be right back."

If he remembered correctly from Iroh's tour all those weeks ago, the restrooms were the first door to the right in the corridor behind the kitchen doors. Which made it a perfect spot for spying. He could wander slightly further and eavesdrop a little and if anyone caught him, he would just pretend he'd gotten lost. There shouldn't be that much staff at the back now – most of them, from what Jee saw, where in the main area, taking orders or simply enjoying the music.

Flawless plan. Now if only he knew what to look for…

Luck, however, clearly decided to be on his side after a fashion – Jee didn't walk further down the corridor than the main kitchen area before he heard Zuko's voice, loud, indignant and cracking a little, from behind closed sliding doors to his left:

"I'm NOT gay!"

Jee stopped in his tracks immediately and froze in place. Then, very carefully and silently, he pressed himself against the door and listened. Which he maybe shouldn't do, but obviously this conversation was _interesting_ and, if the last few weeks were anything to go by, concerned Jee personally.

"Of course you are, sweetie," replied a girl's voice that sounded like Jin. "You'd have slept with me ages ago if you weren't."

"But I had a… I dated…"

"Yes, yes, you had a girlfriend. When you were thirteen. I know. And yes, she's very pretty, but that doesn't count."

"Yes it does."

"Jet'd disagree."

"Jet's an idiot."

"Can't argue with you on this one, dear," Jin's voice gained a little playfulness, or at least it sounded like that from behind the door. "You're the one who's an expert on Jet. Which is _precisely_ my point."

"Get out!"

"Not until you come down from those boxes. Nice and slow, Zuko, I don't want any of your acrobatics. Not in your state."

"I'm not in any state!"

"Sure you're not." Now Jin sounded like a saintly schoolteacher whose student put his head in the toilet _again_. "Now come down and show me exactly how sober you are."

So Jee's suspicions were right: Zuko was drunk. And judging from the exchange in there, he could also guess pretty well as to the reason…

"Get out!" repeated Zuko, his voice sounding odd – more raw, more… desperate.

"You know, I can't say I blame you," said Jin lightly, obviously trying to appease the angry beast. "He's pretty hot for an older guy."

… _Fuck_.

"Wha – what?" Zuko was obviously confused and getting defensive all at once.

"I liked his muttonchops," continued Jin. "One doesn't see them very often. And his chest and arms look really, really strong. I can totally see the appeal."

_Deny it_, pleaded Jee silently in his head. _Deny it. Say _something_, dammit_! _You cannot be that obvious!_

Instead, Jee heard a sudden clutter, a frightened squeal and a furious, roaring "GET OUT, NOW!"

Jee only had a split of second to jump as far away from the sliding door as he could before it opened with a bang and a panicked Jin all but fell through. Jee watched as the girl smoothened her apron and looked disapprovingly at the room she had just vacated, muttering an irate:

"Honestly! Like a baby!"

Jee decided to take this as his cue to announce his presence in the corridor and gain himself a plausible alibi at the same time.

So he cleared his throat and asked, as politely as he could:

"Is there a problem? Can I help?"

"Oh!" Jin jumped at the sound of his voice and immediately whipped around to face him; Jee watched patiently as her pretty big eyes narrowed suddenly in suspicion and a frown marred her lovely features. "I didn't know you were back here, sir," she said slowly.

"I was just looking for the restroom," confessed Jee with an apologetic shrug, radiating innocence as best he could. _See, girl, I'm just a guest who got lost, not at all a dirty old eavesdropper who's hot for teenage ninja waiters…_ "Mr. Xi said it was through here. I only just got here."

Jin scrutinized him for a few seconds longer, which was a tad surprising. She didn't look like the kind of girl who would learn this early to distrust by default. Obviously she was smarter than she let on.

But then her expression changed – she glanced once more at the door to the room where Zuko was, then back to Jee, then back to the door. She was clearly mulling something over; her fingers started fiddling with her apron and she bit her lower lip.

"Actually, sir…" she started in a whisper. "I think there might be something you could do to help. It's Zuko, sir. When I said he's unwell… well, that was a bit of an understatement. Can I… can I trust you not to go to the police?"

"Of course." So she was worried about Zuko breaking the law, getting drunk at his age. That, too, was smart, though admittedly she should have gotten some adult whom she knew she could trust, not someone who was virtually a stranger.

"He's in the storage room," said the girl, motioning for Jee to come closer. "He's sitting on top of some boxes. Goodness knows _how_ he managed to climb up there. Someone needs to take him down before he falls and hurts himself. Maybe _you_ could convince him, sir." She paused again, looking him up and down, and suddenly Jee was painfully aware of what must have been going on in her mind. "You know, as his teacher."

"I'll… try," offered the man, perhaps a little more sternly than he should. "Not sure it'll work out, though. Do you, uh, know Zuko well?"

"Better than most," Jin shrugged. "I'm probably the closest thing to a friend he has here. That's not to say I'm a _real_ friend. Just trying to be one. As much as he'd let me."

Jee nodded.

"And that crash we heard from the kitchen?" he asked quietly, approaching Jin.

She looked embarrassed.

"He's… he's drunk a little bit, sir. Got a little clumsy. It wasn't a big deal. Nothing too expensive. And no one's hurt. Mr. Iroh sent him to bed, but… well, Zuko decided the storage room would suit him better for some reason. I think he just likes high places. I find him on the roof sometimes."

Well. Zuko the Cat. Who would have thought.

"Let's see what we can do, ok?" He smiled at Jin, who obviously needed some reassurance. She nodded, opening the sliding door for him.

Jee walked in just in time to feel the full weight of warm, drunk teenager fall right on top of him.

* * *

**A/N 2**: Well look at that. My first ever serious fanfiction cliffhanger. Now hands up how many of you thought Zuko was going to sing "I believe I can fly" because of my previous teaser. Sorry about that ;)

In chapter 7 you will find an overabundance of descriptions, quite a bit of drunk!Zuko and poor Jee having his fair share of Serious Conversations and ending up in Zuko's bedroom. There might or might not be some snogging involved. *shifty eyes*

Unfortunately, this is the part where I have to warn you that the wait for chapter 7 might be considerably longer. Not only am I doing the summer Jetko exchange, I also hit a major writing block, so I'm not sure how fast I can get it all tidied up and up here, not to mention having chapter 8 ready. Sincere apologies for that.

A massive **thank you** to all my lovely, awesome readers and reviewers! You rock.


	9. Chapter 7: Not Ready

**Author's Notes**: First, an announcement for every Jeeko fan (which I'm assuming you are, since you're reading this in the first place): our little ship now has a home! Nele, Amanda and I teamed up to set up a tumblr blog to collect all the existing Jeeko things, post new ones and accept prompts. It's a group project open to everyone. You'll find it at princebender tumblr com.

Now, make sure you have **lots of time** before you start reading this chapter because it's LONG. I actually dubbed it the Koizilla Chapter in my head, both because of its length and the fact that it practically gave me labour pains. It's also the most frustrating and difficult one to date, because... well, you'll see. No teasing this time. Just on with the show.

* * *

_Ouch_, thought Jee. And out loud he said:

"Umpff."

Christ, the kid was heavy…

_What the fuck's just happened?_

"Oh dear," he heard Jin's concerned voice somewhere above him. "Uh, are you okay? Zuko? Mr. Lieutenant, sir?"

_Let's see. I'm currently lying on some floor with a drunk Zuko on top of me_. _Everything's just tickety-boo_.

"I'm fine," he managed to grunt out, trying to shift his weight and move Zuko off him. The floor felt painfully hard against his stiff back. "Hey, kid! Zuko! You read me?"

"Should I run for help?" asked Jin; in the meantime, Zuko groaned, moved his temporarily sluggish limbs to prop himself up and looked down, straight into Jee's eyes.

And then his own, golden ones comically widened. Even the injured eye opened as far as it would go. Clearly it had not been his intention to test his questionable aerodynamic abilities with Jee conveniently around to cushion his fall; now he was no doubt trying to figure out how the holy fuck he'd gotten himself on top of his teacher, and the very same one who... Well.

Jee met his frightened, glassy gaze rather patiently given the circumstances. Someone should give him a medal or something.

"Hi," he deadpanned, if only to see what the kid would do.

In response, Zuko just stared at him some more, his expression rapidly travelling through different stages of fear, confusion, shock and embarrassment, to finally arrive at a curious mixture of all of the above. The healthy side of his face was nearly completely bright red.

Jee sighed and tried once more to assess the situation. It wasn't a desirable one, to put it mildly. Or, depending on how one looked at it, it was _too_ desirable to be healthy for either of them at this point. In short, here they were, on the floor together, one on top of the other, with their legs all tangled up and Zuko supporting himself on Jee's chest. One didn't really need a whole lot of imagination to start thinking very inappropriate thoughts right about now.

"Uh," Zuko managed to announce and immediately Jee's nostrils were assaulted with the very distinctive smell of wine. That seemed to be it, as far as the boy was concerned.

"Feeling eloquent, are we?" murmured Jee, shifting himself a little, which only resulted in Zuko's sharp hipbone rubbing against his crotch.

Jee shut his eyes and tried to list in alphabetical order all the reasons for why sporting a boner in this situation was a gianormous no-no. Luckily, the wine on Zuko's breath made for a rather successful sobriety agent.

"I think this is the moment when you try to get off me," he prompted instead, doing his best to ignore the little, traitorous voice in his head which whispered _Or get off _with_ me._

"Uh," repeated Zuko, once again demonstrating his awe-inspiring conversational skills. "Right. Sorry."

He blushed even more and fixed his embarrassed, slightly unfocused gaze on Jee's collarbone rather than his face. As he attempted to prop himself higher up and roll off his teacher to the side, his hands slid across Jee's chest in a definitely more lingering way than the situation merited.

His hand was _warm_. And so was the rest of his body.

Damn. Jee half-wanted to reach out and keep him in place now.

Easy now, it really wouldn't do to take advantage of drunk, confused boys dropping on him out of the sky…

"You're drunk," he accused Zuko once the boy was safely off him and trying to stand up.

The boy shot him a death glare and mumbled an incensed "Am not." So apparently he remembered that he was supposed to be mad at Jee.

Wonderful.

Jee moved to rise from the ground too, wincing a little when his back voiced a painful protest at such violent treatment, then stood next to a decidedly wobbly Zuko and crossed his arms to radiate fierce didactic disapproval – only to uncross them again to catch the swaying boy before he toppled over.

Zuko tried to push him away, but his aim was a little off and he only succeeded in sloppily pushing at Jee's right cheek.

"Jin," asked Jee levelly, struggling to hold the little rebel in place, "just how much did he manage to drink?"

"Um." The girl indicated an empty wine bottle peeking out from a paper bag lying on the ground in a corner by the door. "Only this. But he drank it all himself, and in quite a short time as far as I know."

_Great_. _Simply fan-fucking-tastic_.

"Where did you even get that from, eh? Stole it from your precious uncle's cabinet, no doubt," Jee addressed Zuko sternly just for the sake of it, though it was clear at this point he could just as successfully be scolding the pile of boxes – the brat was too absorbed in trying to demonstrate that he could walk straight on his own just fine, thank you very much, and swaying rather dangerously in the process.

Fuck. A thousand fucks with some shit thrown in. And it was all _his_ fault, wasn't it…

Jee sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. There it was, this thrice-accursed sense of responsibility. Try as he might, he couldn't deny what he suspected about Zuko, which really did make it partly his fault if it were true. And now, as was usually the case, he was possessed by the need to make it right somehow.

Taking the little demon to bed, away from further harm, would be a good start. And he would _absolutely refuse_ to think about this situation in any different light until he was safely out of this place, locked away in his own apartment, preferably following Zuko's example and drinking himself into a stupor.

"Could you get Iroh?" he asked Jin, who stood in the doorway biting her nails. "Or if you know the way to this little felon's room, could you show me and tell Iroh what happened?"

"Of course," the girl replied, pulling herself together. "Zuko's bedroom is upstairs, second floor, third door to the right. You'll find the staircase if you turn left at the end of this corridor. It's usually open. I'll tell Mr. Xi and he'll join you as soon as he can."

"Thank you, Jin."

"I don't need your help!" Zuko protested rather hotly as Jee unceremoniously proceeded to throw the boy's arm around his own neck to stabilize him. "I can get there on my own!"

"Says the brat who thought he was a bird," muttered Jee, trying to push his protesting burden towards the door.

"I didn't," claimed the kid, dragging himself after Jee most reluctantly and still trying ineffectively to break free. "Had no idea you'd be there! Would've landed just fine if you hadn't burst in."

"Why won't you tell this story to someone who cares," the lieutenant suggested, stopping just past the door, with Jin still standing there looking on with concern. "Zuko. Hey. Listen to me, you little… kid. You can let me help you upstairs and tuck you in like a good boy, or I can just carry you over my arm like a potato sack and then tuck you in anyway, only much rougher to make sure you stay put. Don't for a second think I won't."

Zuko looked up to glare at him. A staring contest Jee had already learned to expect from him ensued, made so much shorter and easier by the fact that Zuko seemed to have trouble with his focus, before the boy finally saw the futility of further struggle and deflated with an angry huff, which probably meant grudging submission.

"See?" Jee smiled in encouragement. "That wasn't so hard. I promise I won't tell anyone. Now, on we go."

A stifled giggle from behind him made Jee turn around and look at Jin; she was standing in her previous spot, watching them no longer with concern, but with obvious amusement, covering her mouth with both hands. She smiled widely at Jee and gave him a thumbs-up before turning around and trotting down the corridor, seemingly in no hurry whatsoever.

Jee frowned after her. Her little gesture of appreciation didn't seem to imply anything other than "Good job handling him," but then again, he already knew that she'd somehow learned about Zuko's weird little… thing for him. And now that Jee was aware of that, the looks she gave him back at their table suddenly became a whole lot clearer.

This was… potentially dangerous. Jee needed to get Zuko to bed as soon as possible and then scramble the hell away, so as not to give the girl even more food for thought. She didn't seem to disapprove, but there was no telling what was really going on in her head. If she had any reason to suspect Jee might take advantage of Zuko in his drunken state…

Not good. Not good _at all_.

Shit, he shouldn't have sent her away. They should have escorted Zuko to bed together so that he wouldn't be left alone with the boy. Suddenly, Jee wanted to shout after Jin and ask her to come back, but it was too late – she'd already disappeared.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Nothing to be done about it now, though. He'd think of a way to redeem it later, once he'd dealt with the more immediately pressing problems – like the heavy, stiff weight of a reluctant Zuko leaning on him. The boy might have stopped struggling physically, but it was clear he was less than happy with his current predicament, which he probably viewed as a serious blow to his dignity; his body was tense all over, his muscles hard and unresponsive.

There was also the fact that he was mad as all hell at Jee at the moment.

Right.

Jee adjusted his arm to steady him better and started walking towards the staircase Jin had mentioned, steering Zuko so that they would find something resembling a rhythm. He knew how to do this – it wasn't the first time he escorted a drunk person and now he had the added bonus of being sober himself, which had not always been the case. Plus, for all his lovingly carved muscles, Zuko was still a great deal lighter than most of the people Jee'd walk-of-shamed in his time, though he seemed bent on annulling this little advantage by being as passively uncooperative as it was humanly possible. With one arm strategically wound around the boy and resting on his waist, Jee firmly led him onward, ignoring the awkward silence Zuko seemed hell-bent on making worse.

Miraculously, they managed to reach the staircase without too much fuss. Jee half-expected Iroh to catch up with them at this point, which, indeed, would have been a blessing; but he only heard random series of footsteps on the kitchen corridor and Suki's music, muffled now by distance. Either Jin, for reasons fathomable only to her, took her sweet time informing the owner of his nephew's situation, or Iroh decided Zuko was in capable enough hands and trusted Jee to take care of his precious little demon until he could come and relieve him.

And since when was _Jee_ anyone's idea of a good babysitter?

He should probably text Ming. She was bound to wonder what on Earth was taking him so long. No time for this now, though, he had to brave the stairs to the second floor with Zuko all but hanging on him. Trying to multitask now could very well get them both killed.

Concentrate. That was the key. Ming would understand.

"What were you doing back there, anyway?" the boy asked suddenly, his voice a little slurred though still distinctly snappish.

"Looking for the gents'," replied Jee quickly. "Right leg up. Left now. Good."

"That wasn't the gents'," explained Zuko after a pause filled with struggling limbs. "That was the storage room. With tea and stuff."

"By stuff, would you happen to mean flying teenagers? Didn't know teashop storage rooms contained those," murmured Jee, readjusting his slipping grip on the boy.

_If I knew, I'd come for tea more often_.

Zuko snorted. "I told you," he insisted. "I would've landed just fine. It was your fault for barging in like that."

"And the drinking? Was that my fault, too?" asked the lieutenant, taking care to sound harshly disapproving and make it clear the question was rhetorical. "You broke the law, you know."

Zuko tried to shrug, then seemed to remember it wouldn't be very effective with one of his arms slung around Jee's neck. "Wouldn't be the first time," he mumbled sullenly.

Jee rolled his eyes. Great, there came the showing-off part. Look at me, I'm all grown up, drinking my uncle's wine without permission… Yeah. Real mature.

And then Jee wondered if maybe, just maybe, even subconsciously, it had been for his own benefit.

_Look at me, I'm old enough to get drunk so I'm old enough to fuck_…

Sodding teenager logic.

"Enjoying yourself?" asked Zuko unexpectedly somewhere in the middle of the first flight of stairs; his body was getting slightly more malleable, but his voice sounded even more hoarse and hostile. "I don't mean now," he corrected himself quickly. "Back there. With miss Ming."

Jee nearly swore out loud. If he needed any more proof that his suspicions re: Zuko drinking were accurate, here it was. He had to tread carefully here, and not because of the staircase.

"She's a very nice woman," he replied slowly. "But don't go spreading any rumors about us at school. They… wouldn't be true."

That seemed to get the brat's attention. His head rose as he looked at Jee, who felt the intent gaze on him even though he was busy watching the stairs as he slowly maneuvered them both up.

"You mean this isn't a date?" Zuko's voice now rang with honest confusion.

Jee sighed. "No," he confessed heavily. "At least not on my part."

"Why? It looked like you two –"

"Ok, stop right there. You shouldn't be this interested in your teachers' sex life. That's called being noisy and you know what they say about curiosity."

"I'm not a cat, though."

"Could have fooled me."

This earned him another snort, but afterwards it seemed that Zuko got a bit lighter, more cooperative. The silence, too, seemed less oppressive and sullen. Which only further dampened Jee's mood.

He should have lied and confirmed he was into Ming. That was the sensible thing to do. Sure, it would have hurt Zuko, but it would've been for his own good in the long run. He would've gotten over it. But Jee was just too fucking soft, wasn't he, he didn't want to knowingly twist the knife in Zuko's jealous back just to drive him away and now he had to deal with the mess he'd helped create, as usual.

The point was… he _really_ didn't want Zuko to think he was on a date. Which was the most idiotic thing of all.

Or maybe it wasn't – maybe the cake for the most idiotic thing was taken by the fact that his hand tightened its grip on Zuko's waist unnecessarily, feeling the kid's body warmth seep through the uniform right into Jee. As if on instinct, Zuko responded to this more tender touch by inching closer to his teacher and leaning his head slightly on the older man's arm. He didn't seem conscious of this, or maybe the alcohol lowered his inhibitions so considerably that he didn't care anymore. Jee entertained the idea of shifting them again so that they would regain some semblance of distance, but in the end thought better of it. If Zuko had the excuse of drunkenness, well then, there was no harm in hogging this very, very nice warmth just a little, was there…? It wasn't as if they were molesting each other.

And if Zuko stumbled upon one of the stairs a little too clumsily so that Jee had to catch and conveniently hold him even closer, well then, there was no need to overanalyze it.

The thing was, Jee wasn't used to this. To denying himself – as far as sex went, at least, because God knew he got used to denying himself other comforts long, long ago. No, when it came to fucking, he'd always been more or less honest about it with himself as well as with other people, especially once he'd gained some experience. He knew how to play this game, he'd been in a couple of more or less stable relationships, had had his share of frantic one-night-stands in strange places or awkward tumbles in his bunk in the dark, and he'd never seen any reason to stifle his urges, even in the Navy, where getting caught could mean pretty disastrous consequences. But this – this was new. This was unchartered territory and he had to keep actively convincing his stupid, demanding body it should stay that way. Even though parts of him rebelled against this resolution with all of their might and screamed at him to just _look_ at Zuko, to see how painfully eager and willing this boy was, how easy it would be…

The result was that what at first had only been awkward, uncomfortable and devoid of even the faintest traces of sexual potential, was now steadily blending into a whole different situation altogether; instead of focusing on the road ahead and on taking the next step so they wouldn't fall on their butts, Jee was now focusing on every inch of Zuko's body where it was pressed into his.

Judging from the silence on the other end of this deal, Zuko was all too aware of this, too.

However, luckily for Jee's resolve, this didn't seem to be a night made for romance – when they were almost to the top of the staircase, Zuko suddenly pushed away from Jee and promptly threw up all over the wall. Oh yeah, Jee'd almost forgotten about the wine and why he was escorting the kid up in the first place. The lieutenant winced in sympathy and awkwardly patted the heaving, ashen-faced boy on the back, before pulling out a set of tissues from his pants pocket and offering it to him. Zuko wordlessly accepted the gift and wiped his mouth, looking utterly desolate, then allowed himself to be led to his own bedroom without another word, giving off the impression that he was just a few tiny fibers of strong will short from keeling over and only Jee's support stopped him from actually doing so.

"I… I need to change," he mumbled once they staggered into his dark bedroom and Jee started feeling the walls for the light switch.

"Correct. Taking a shower would also be a good life choice, if you can stand there without falling over. Need my help to get the bathroom?" asked the man absent-mindedly; his hand touched the switch and flicked it, thus bathing the bedroom in electric light.

Zuko briefly shut his eyes against the sudden brightness.

"No," he rasped out. "It's just through here." He indicated a door to their left.

A private bathroom adjoining the bedroom? Fancy.

"I'll wait here and make sure you don't drown, then," decided Jee and crossed his arms over his chest to firmly prevent all discussion on the point. "Any suspicious noises and I'm barging in, so kindly don't lock yourself in there. It would seriously hinder my heroic mission."

Zuko didn't seem to have it in him to fight over this – he simply gave Jee a lingering, resigned once-over, then shook his head and disappeared into the private bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Thanks for not throwing up on me!" shouted Jee to the door on a sudden instinct, but he wasn't graced with an answer. Instead, he got the unmistakable sounds of more dry-heaving before he heard running water in the shower.

There was nothing for it but wait, then. A shower would do the kid some good and he definitely needed to get out of his vomit-sullied uniform. This could take a while. Jee deliberately left the bedroom door open – closing it could imply something shifty – and took a few steps into the room proper, then looked around, his curiosity suddenly piqued.

He didn't have anything else to do for now, anyway…

If Zuko was the main mastermind behind the décor, it was clear which colors he liked best – the bedroom was oppressively dominated by the deep red of the walls and the lacquered black of the furniture. Fire Industries colors, Jee noted, with a touch of whatever other colors were smuggled here by various wall hangings, books and other typically high-school curiosa. It felt… daunting, a little. Aggressive, pulsing with a strange sort of destructive, fierce energy. Not tasteless, exactly, not ugly, but… oppressive. Jee wondered how anyone could sleep in here, with all that restless redness closing in on him from the walls.

Which probably explained a lot about Zuko – or maybe it was the other way around.

Fleetingly, Jee found himself surprised to see an actual bed in here. Given Iroh's fondness for tradition, he half-expected a sleeping mat. But no, the spacious room seemed rather modern and ordinary, with a long, oaken desk lining the wall to Jee's right, cluttered with books, papers, notebooks and a laptop; a big wardrobe tucked into the corner to the right; shelves hanging on the walls here and there, covered with books; and a nightstand, with a night-lamp and a thick paperback, an illustration of pirates on the cover, that Zuko must have been reading, judging from a bookmark peeking out from it close to the end.

That was not to say there were no Asian elements, though; there were plenty, and for the next couple of minutes Jee amused himself with a highly educational game of "Spot This." A porcelain figure of a dragon on the desk; a strange-looking altar with candles and incense, a sitting mat spread in front of it, by the door to the bathroom; a traditional Chinese watercolor painting of a waterfall, with cranes and cherry blossoms and something in ornamental calligraphy written on it, hung on the door – a surprisingly peaceful element in this pulsing, vivid redness; more distinctly Chinese ornaments on the shelves to keep the books standing, pale figurines of warriors and women in kimonos; a couple of signs which Jee couldn't read painted in black directly on the red walls. All in all, there was no mistaking this room's occupant's descent, but at the same time, though all of this set the tone of the general décor, it didn't overwhelm it or turn the bedroom into a temple, maybe because there was still room on the walls for some ordinary posters of rock bands and movies and a cork board by the desk with Zuko's schedule, some sticky notes and pictures stuck to it.

It made for a highly unusual mix. Basically, the room looked a bit as if the occupant got some old rubbish down from the attic, then couldn't decide which stuff to throw away and didn't bother packing it away again.

And decided, for some reason, to add a giant logo of Fire Industries; the neatly stylized flame sprayed in black right above Zuko's bed presided over the scene like some creepy sentinel.

Jee frowned at it as he perched on the edge of the bed, flicking the night-lamp's switch on. It gave off a soft, pleasant glow which Jee deemed more comfortable for a soon-to-be-hungover teenager, so he stood back up and turned the big lamp off, leaving the room in a gentle, scarlet half-light. It suited the general color scheme much better than the previous brightness; made the room feel warm rather than aggressive, turned its furious lividness into a gentler vibrancy.

It also made the sprayed black logo so much darker, somehow. Maybe it was the deepened shadows, but in this gentle glow the stylized flame of Fire Industries seemed to loom over Jee's head in a way that could be identified as menacing.

So the lieutenant escaped from it, looking to the opposite end of the room. Which was when his eyes landed on the altar again and noticed something they had failed to catch before: a pair of crossed, sheathed swords rested on wooden supports on the wall right above it.

Ah. Those had to be the dao Piandao talked about. Not only did Zuko train with them, then, he even _owned_ a pair… Those must have cost a fortune. But then again, the kid was actually among the few people who really _could_ afford it, wasn't he? Even disgraced and banished to the province like that. The thought suddenly made Jee oddly uncomfortable.

The shower in the bathroom was still running when Jee's cell phone rang, disturbing the silence with Pink Floyd's _Wish You Were Here_.

Ming. Oh yeah, he was supposed to text her earlier, wasn't he…

"Hi there," he said awkwardly, getting off the bed and sauntering idly towards the desk to gaze at the pictures pinned to the corkboard. "Sorry for the delay. I had to –"

"Jin told me," said the woman on the other end of the line. "I just wanted to make sure if everything's all right."

"I think the situation's under control. He's taking a shower. I'm hanging on in case I hear something that'd indicate the kid's slipped and bashed his head against the tiles."

"Right, we wouldn't want that." There was a small sigh from Ming. "Just… don't take all night, okay? I do recall promising you some drinks."

"I'll be back as soon as I'm relieved of my Zuko-sitting duty. I'm sure you'll be able to entertain yourself without me until then."

There was a chuckle on the other side of the connection. "Be careful, you may regret saying that. Bye."

Jee said goodbye in a murmur and ended the connection almost on instinct, too intent on what was before him.

He knew that girl. Or at least, he'd seen a picture of her when she was younger and hanging on a 13-year-old Zuko's arm at a party. Here, in this photo cut out from some sort of a magazine, she looked about sixteen, sitting at a table on a patio someplace tropical overlooking the sea, hiding in the shade produced by a giant umbrella and looking thoroughly bored. Rather beautiful, too, slim and tall, effortlessly graceful, her face sharp, regular and elegant. The clothes she wore were dark, smart and fashionable in this discreet, subtle way really rich and classy people dressed, as they saw no need to advertise their all too obvious status. Her long, black hair was done in a simple, efficient braid and falling on her right shoulder, enhancing the look of affluence and practicality. There was a man's hand resting on the table next to her elbow, but it was impossible to tell to whom it belonged as the rest of the picture did not make it onto Zuko's corkboard. Maybe it was the girl's posh daddy – a senator, wasn't he? What was her name again…?

Curious. There seemed to be at least one person from his past Zuko missed enough to look for her pictures in the press, then. But why the press? Why not a facebook photo, why not something more personal? There was a story there, no doubt about it, and Jee wasn't entirely sure if he liked the implications his mind instantly supplied him with.

His gaze tore itself away from the pretty teenage girl and moved on to the next photo, of a dashing young man in uniform, saluting with one hand and embracing a beaming dark-haired Iroh, also in uniform, with the other. The deceased cousin? Looked like it, the family resemblance was there if one looked hard enough.

It was the third photo, however, that drew most of Jee's attention. There was the Xi family relaxing on a beach somewhere that had palms, with young Zuko industriously building a sandcastle with the help of a beautiful, long-haired, soft-faced woman clad in bikini who could only be his mother. Ozai was there, too, sitting up under a beach umbrella and holding Zuko's younger sister in his arms – the little girl was reaching out towards her brother as though she wanted to join in the sandcastle-construction-site fun. The picture must have been taken sneakily, maybe even by Iroh or his son, for the family did not in any way acknowledge the camera pointed at them, which gave the scene a very natural, genuine feel. Zuko's face comically screwed up in rapt concentration, the tip of his tongue peeking out, and the mother's warm, loving expression as she gazed on her son, could not be faked. It was difficult to make out the father's face as it was hidden in the shadow, but Jee could easily enough imagine him smiling indulgently at his family.

How long ago was this picture taken? It looked like something from another world. If Jee had felt poetically inclined, he would have thought it seemed like a memory caught adrift in the sea of chaos, a fleeting moment forcefully wrenched into a frame so it wouldn't escape on the wind… But poetry was the last thing on his mind right now so he merely stared at the peaceful scene, suddenly unable to form a single coherent thought, his throat going strangely tight.

There was no question that this was a memory. Something irretrievably lost. And this awareness only strengthened Jee's already solid curiosity.

What happened? What made it all go bust?

Jee wasn't naïve. Though he had next to nothing to do with those higher up the social ladder, he knew that to most of those corporate buggers, happiness was just another commodity. Moments like the one caught in the photo had to be scarce in the Xi family – everything Jee'd read about what happened later confirmed it. But it was enough to awake a hollow pang in Jee, an old, muted longing he thought he'd long since left behind.

He used to want memories like this one, didn't he, ages, ages ago…

And then he realized Zuko looked at this picture every single day when he woke up, every single night when he went to bed. Ever second he spent in this room, this scene, this memory, had to haunt him with a remainder of what he'd lost. And, the least understandable thing of all, the kid had _chosen_ to inflict this torture on himself, day by day. The pictures, the Fire Industries logo on the wall…

It was as if he was consciously fuelling his own hatred and anger to make them last, to hold onto the past and his frustration with the present, as if they alone gave him the drive to go on – to fight.

_"Should I do the same, then? Give up, assimilate? _Stop fighting?"

Was this Zuko's battle, then? Was he fighting against accepting his new situation, against giving up? Was he afraid that once he'd allow himself to stop looking back, to start anew, he would… What? Betray something or someone? Lose his old life irrevocably?

Was that really such a bad thing?

It was, as Jee suddenly realized. For someone like Zuko, it was. People like him didn't think of letting go. They fed on their own anger until they choked, but it was this anger that gave them a purpose. Something to aim at, something to fight for. Something to keep them out of the mundane, oily everyday routine of _the average_.

In a way, Jee understood. He may never have had the genuine warmth and comfort of a loving family, but he had tasted enough of its imitation to partially imagine what went on in Zuko's head. He'd had his own battles to fight, his own fuels to keep the anger alive, before he'd learned to let go and look ahead rather than back. It was a tough lesson, one of the toughest, and Zuko had yet to learn it – if he ever would.

The sudden silence shook Jee out of this gloomy reverie – the shower had stopped. Meaning he had to bolt away from the desk right now, or else Zuko would catch him spying on his privacy and there would be _consequences_. So, in quick, noiseless strides, Jee once again made his way to the bed and sat on its edge, schooling his expression so that it looked neutral with a tinge of boredom.

Trying hard not to look like a man who'd just intruded on some of the wounds in Zuko's heart.

Just as he predicted, it didn't take the Xi boy long to emerge from the bathroom once the water stopped running – and when he did, his step seemed confident enough, with only tiny traces of swaying. However, Jee took note of it only when his brain was finally done registering the other, more immediately pressing fact that Zuko emerged from the shower shirtless.

His black hair wet and plastered to his skin, the lower half of his body clad in black cotton pajama pants, the upper, gloriously exposed, still adorned with droplets of water dropping on him from the hair and slithering down his fair skin, the kid gazed at Jee for about a split of second before he started to make his way to the bed. The older man stood up, just in case, but it seemed the water had helped at least partially dispel the cloud of alcohol from Zuko's head – he reached the bed without any serious trouble and lay down on top of the covers, looking up at Jee half-expectantly, half-questioningly.

Which probably meant the lieutenant would have to come up with a reason to justify why he was still here and not making his way back downstairs right this very second.

And yeah, why wasn't he?

"Don't you own a _set_ of pajamas?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow, in what was probably a very lame attempt at humor.

Zuko didn't seem amused; his eyes narrowed. "It's warm in here."

_Of course it is_. _Nice try, Casanova_.

Even in his state, the little critter could be _sly_. Jee absolutely refused to believe he didn't fail to wear a shirt on purpose.

Ignore. Yes. Ignore.

"Feeling any better, kiddo?" asked Jee softly in a valiant try to shift attention away from Zuko's appetizing physique.

Zuko nodded, his eyes narrowing even further. "I'm fine," he saw fit to clarify. "You can go now."

"Not until your uncle comes to relieve me," stated Jee in a flash of inspiration, hesitantly perching back down in his spot on the edge of the bed. "I have to make sure you stay put and not do anything else stupid before the night's end."

"Why? You're not my babysitter."

"Stop acting like a baby who _needs_ one and maybe I'll reconsider."

Only in hindsight did Jee realize that maybe implying that about Zuko had not been the brightest of ideas – the kid would just take it as a challenge. It became blatantly clear when, in a fit of bravery, Zuko reached out and lay his hand on Jee's.

"I am _not_ a baby," he stated rather vehemently.

And though he kept looking into his teacher's eyes intently as he did so, he couldn't mask the nervousness bubbling under the bravado; couldn't hide the gulping movement of his Adam's apple as he swallowed; couldn't stop the shifting flicker of his eyes or the way they glazed slightly over.

Which told Jee all he needed to know.

_You don't know what you want_, he thought, looking at their joined hands and then back to Zuko's face. _You think you do, but you're uncertain. You don't know what the hell you're doing. You're trying to figure it out as you go. I don't know why you're even starting this and I don't think you do, either, but you're chasing something that's way too big for you, and maybe for all the wrong reasons, and you're not sure what I can give you, but you still think you want to try, even though you hesitate. _

_You're not ready._

It seemed that the shower and the vomiting did not clear Zuko's head entirely after all.

And yet, Jee didn't pull his hand away. Ignoring the alarm bells roaring in his head, he slowly reversed their positions so that both of their hands lay palm-up, Zuko's on top of his. Jee felt the heat of the boy's narrow gaze directed at him as his thumb started to idly explore, to touch, to travel up and down, side to side, on the offered hand, brushing white, surprisingly calloused skin, lightly pressing on passive fingers.

He should stop it. Every sane thought in his brain screamed at him to do just that. Stop it, and then talk to the kid like a normal, responsible adult _without fucking touching him_.

But Zuko's hand was warm, he wasn't moving it away from Jee – he just lay there, silent and very, very still – and, truth be told, Jee didn't want to stop. It felt good. Experience told him not to stop anything that felt good, as sensations like this were difficult enough to come by. And maybe, hopefully, this simple touch would be enough to temporarily soothe the fire in Zuko's heart, or at least bank it a little. Maybe he could bring the boy some comfort this way. This simple skin-to-skin contact didn't have to be sexual if they didn't consciously make it so, and right now, it was just a moment of emotions unidentified, suspended on a tightrope between innocence and sin.

Zuko's eyes still fixed on him, Jee moved his second hand to join the first in its gentle exploration of skin, pressing a little firmer here and there in a massage, as if to say: Relax. Calm down. You're not alone.

"You do realize that what you did was incredibly moronic," he stated softly, looking into Zuko's eyes. "As your teacher I should lecture the hell out of you."

"I'm not good at listening to lectures," murmured Zuko, meeting his gaze.

Jee permitted himself a half-smile. "And lucky for you, I'm not very good at giving them. But I am forbidding you to behave this stupidly ever again. Someone could have caught and reported you."

Zuko looked puzzled. "_This_ is what you're warning me about?" he asked in a raspy whisper. "Getting caught? You're not gonna talk about how bad alcohol is for me?"

"It _is_ bad," admitted Jee, "but I started pouring it down my throat when I was even younger than you, despite people lecturing me about it, so I imagine you're not going to listen. I don't feel like wasting my breath. It's something you'll have to learn on your own. Next time, if there has to be a next time, try to be more discreet. The sight of your uncle bailing you out isn't worth it."

"You… used to drink as a kid?" asked Zuko even more incredulously.

"That and more," Jee winked at him, silently congratulating himself on a connection not completely broken. There was hope yet.

"Listen," he said more earnestly, his hands still caressing Zuko's. "I know you have… problems. Don't deny it, it's as obvious as your friend Chan's IQ. I just want you to know that, well… you can talk to me. About anything. Believe me when I say I know what it's like to have problems at your age. I'm always ready to help if you need it."

The boy examined him carefully, his body unmoving, his eyebrow slightly furrowed. When he said "I don't need your charity," Jee was ready for it.

"It's not charity," he insisted, squeezing Zuko's hand once. "It's plain old goodwill. Just… think about it."

Slowly, very slowly, Zuko nodded.

"You should try to get some sleep, kid," whispered Jee into the soft, reddish glow, still massaging Zuko's warm, warm palm. "It'd do you good."

"Stop calling me that," the teen's voice was strangely quiet and, suddenly, intense; his eyes never left Jee's. "I'm not a kid anymore."

_Yes, you are_, thought Jee, answering his gaze with a steady one of his own. _Your body may be that of a man, parts of you may feel like they've grown too much already, but there are parts that still have a long, long way to go_.

He didn't say it. What came out of his mouth was:

"Getting drunk does not make you an adult. It just makes you an idiot." The words were harsh, but the touch of his hand gentled the message. "Believe me, I would know."

Zuko's eyelids lowered a little. "You're gonna preach at me after all, Lieutenant?"

"No," Jee shook his head and permitted himself a smile at the boy. "Like I said, there are some lessons you need to learn for yourself. Just be careful."

There was a beat of silence as they looked at each other, the scarlet half-light deepening the shadows on Zuko's body, the giant black flame looming over them both.

And then, something in Zuko's expression… changed. Jee wasn't sure what it was, but he realized it had been shifting for a while, subtly, making the kid's eyes even brighter. Zuko swallowed, loudly, and the tendons in his hand tensed under Jee's touch.

"But there are… other lessons," he whispered, his raspy voice barely audible now, his eyes narrowing again. "Aren't there? Lessons you _could _teach me."

His hand closed on Jee's.

Jee should have prevented what happened next. He should have voiced some protests, however token. But in the end, though he knew perfectly well what was coming and Zuko wasn't even that quick about it, he did nothing as the teenager, _his own student_, propped himself up into a half-sitting position, leaned in and kissed him.

As far as kisses went, this one was decidedly not glamorous. It was sloppy and awkward, barely a touch of the lips at first, and hesitant, too, because Zuko nearly missed. Even as he automatically opened his own mouth to deepen it, Jee could sense Zuko's nervousness peeking out from underneath the haze of lust and wine-induced determination, tasted self-consciousness on the boy's lips. The smell of wine still lingered there, muted now by the generous taste of toothpaste, and though the lieutenant wanted more than anything now to leave his common sense on the other side of the door and dive right into this moment, into this delicious, willing warmth, it was this remaining whiff of alcohol that jolted him right back to reality.

When he pushed Zuko away, he did it as gently as he could, grasping the boy's shoulders to steady him as he gazed intently into his eyes.

"Zuko," he said in a low voice. "Zuko. Listen to me. We can't do this." _Not like this_.

"But we just did," whispered the kid huskily, trying to lean in again. Jee held him steady, though it was admittedly hard to argue with this bit of logic, especially when Zuko's bare shoulders felt so nicely warm, smooth and solid under his touch.

"I know. But we shouldn't. You're still drunk, you don't know what you're doing and I'm not going to take advantage of that."

"What do you mean?" asked the kid slowly, his one eyebrow going up in confusion as his temporarily alcohol-addled brain tried to make sense of the world. "That you wouldn't have stopped me if I hadn't drunk anything?" He cocked his head to the side, his wet hair clinging to the scarred half of his face, his forehead furrowing in a frown as he studied Jee. "Well, I'm _not_ drunk anymore. I know what I want. Do _you_?"

Shit. Now he'd gotten himself into a true lose-lose situation, hadn't he. No matter what Jee said, he was going to screw up. He could be honest, admit that yes, he wanted Zuko very much but he couldn't possibly act on this desire because of a hundred perfectly valid reasons the brat would not acknowledge, thus forever destroying his own authority in Zuko's eyes and giving him an opening for further advances. Or he could lie and deny everything, in which case he would crush the boy's confidence and potentially drive him into depression. He could still do that and hope Zuko would prove to be stronger than that, but fuck, the kid went and got himself inebriated just because he saw Jee on a presumed date and was potentially having a sexuality crisis. Jee'd been there, done that, dealt with the shit that followed and it wasn't pretty. A part of him, the one that always got him into trouble, still very much wanted to help the kid. Wanted to reach out and guide him through this, to lead him to the other side with as little scars as possible. If he denied this part of himself now and Zuko caught his lie, he would perhaps forever shut the door to civil communication between them and any help would thus be rendered impossible. The kid would feel cheated and wouldn't want anything more to do with an old hypocrite like Jee.

Which, perhaps, could be a desirable outcome in that it would forestall any further situations like that – but that would be the only consequence which could be viewed as positive.

He was wasting precious seconds here. Zuko sat mere inches away from him, the taste of his lips still a warm tingling on Jee's, his pale skin – so much of it – looking disturbingly enticing in the soft, reddish light which painted deeper shadows on the perfect shape of the boy's chest and stomach, and he was looking at Jee, waiting impatiently for an answer. Suddenly, Jee wanted nothing more than for them to stay like that so he could stare at this beautiful picture forever and feel the heat of this young body under his palms as he moved them, just a tiny little bit, to the sides, to slide them down Zuko's muscular shoulders…

He had no excuse. None whatsoever, other than his own pent-up lust and Zuko's willingness, as his hands did slide down smooth, pale skin slowly, inch by inch. The boy shivered under his touch and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. His body was rigid, but he didn't move an inch away from Jee as the man's hands travelled down his arms, lightly caressing the muscles tensing under his touch.

A quick glance down proved to Jee just how much Zuko didn't mind. Which… didn't help him come to grips with himself at all. Made it worse, in fact, as now he was gripped by the irresistible urge to reach down and close his hand around this tempting bulge growing in Zuko's pajamas, to see what kind of sounds it would elicit from the boy, how his face would change, how the rest of his body would react…

Great. Now he was this close to getting hard himself.

He wanted so many things right now. He wanted to lean in, cup the healthy side of Zuko's face and lead him into another kiss – a real one this time. He wanted to trace a wet pattern on the boy's throat with his mouth. Wanted to kiss those nipples, visibly hardening under his gaze. He wanted to see how the boy's arousal tasted, to push him onto his back and take him, with the distant sounds of Music Night below them floating in from the window. Wanted to touch, to taste, to explore…

It was the football field all over again.

He had to get away from here, _now_.

"Zuko, this needs to stop," he managed to utter, his hands stilling on the boy's forearms. "I mean it. You have no idea what kind of mess you're getting yourself into."

The boy regarded him in silence for a moment, his eyes visibly bright with desire. "But you want me," he whispered, inching closer to Jee, his voice bearing a tint of accusation. "I've seen it. You _want_ me."

"It doesn't matter what I want," Jee sighed. "We cannot continue. I need to go."

"I'm not afraid," insisted Zuko, his voice rising. "I'm ready. I want this. Teach me."

And the worst part of it was, Jee nearly believed him.

"We'll talk about this some other time, when you're completely sober," he muttered and looked away, giving Zuko's forearms a little squeeze. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I _do_!" The kid wrenched his arms away from Jee's grip, his expression growing furious in a blink. "How much more obvious do I have to make it?! Stop using me being drunk as an excuse like a fucking coward and finally admit that you want me too!"

There was desperation underlying his words now, and just a visible trace of self-doubt. _Admit it, please, prove me right, I've laid myself bare for you, don't push me away now_…

Fuck.

"I told you, this has nothing to do with what I want, it's about what's right and what's wrong," Jee said coldly, by some miracle managing not to shout. He was fucking everything up here epically. "This? This definitely falls into the _wrong_ category, in case you haven't noticed. And it's illegal. It has to stop, and it will stop _now_."

Zuko looked away from him as if slapped, hanging his head, biting his lower lip, drawing in on himself.

"Seems I was wrong about you," he muttered, as if to himself. "I thought you were brave."

Which was when, to put it shortly, Jee went insane.

Or, if he were to tell the long story, that was when he gritted out an _Oh, fuck this_, reached out, grabbed the back of Zuko's head, forced him up by the hair and kissed him on the mouth, _hard_.

_That's it_, he thought, forcing Zuko's mouth to open with little trouble and tilting the kid's head to better angle the kiss. _I've lost it. I'm trying to prove my own courage to a fucking teenager and allowing myself to be baited like a damn eight-year-old_. That wasn't the case, though, and he knew it perfectly well because the ugly truth was that something in him went _snap!_ and he simply used the bait to justify his actions to himself. There was also a different undercurrent to his thoughts, one which ran deeper and which hummed in an angry, provocative whisper:

_So you know what you want, boy? You think you're so grown up? Let's see it, then_. _Show me_.

His other hand landed on the other side of Zuko's face, just below the scar; his thumb caressed his jawline while he firmly maneuvered the boy's face. Zuko tried to keep up and reciprocate, opening his mouth dutifully and letting Jee's tongue in; the moment it touched his palate, the Xi boy let out a small, desperate whimper and tried to get closer to Jee, his arms snaking around the older man's neck. Jee's right hand travelled down from his face to caress his back and draw him nearer at the same time, so that suddenly he had a lapful of teenager. And all this time, he kept kissing Zuko so hard as if he wanted to bruise, greedily exploring the warm, wet cavern of his mouth, allowing himself, just for this one, wild moment, to open up the dams of frustration and need. To pour in all the pent-up want, to show this selfish, damnable, _delectable_ brat just what his flirting did to him, to demonstrate the levels of self-control it took to keep refusing – the _courage_ it took to look away and deny himself. To show Zuko exactly how dangerous the game he initiated was, and how much he was _not_ ready for it.

_See this, kid? Do you see this? _This_ is courage, this is what bravery is really about. You have no idea about any of it. So stop playing with fire or you'll get burned even worse than you already were. _

But education was as far from Zuko's mind as a nunnery was from a nymphomaniac's – his body pressed up so close to Jee's, the lieutenant could feel exactly how excited he was. Jee was basically crushing him, assaulting his mouth with everything he had and _still_ the boy was hard as a rock, his erection pushing insistently into Jee's stomach. The older man's body was responding to it more and more enthusiastically, his hands dancing frantically all over Zuko's naked upper body, delighting in the feel of firm muscles he'd wanted to touch so desperately. Zuko's hands were travelling into Jee's hair, down his cheeks, tracing his sideburns as he tried ineffectively to keep up with the older man, to match him need for need; he was emitting little frantic noises of pleasure and want which went straight to Jee's groin; but there was no question that he was being overwhelmed.

The kiss lingered. And the longer it lasted, the more the situation deteriorated dangerously close to blending into foreplay. Jee was involuntarily slowing down, his intent of crushing Zuko being forgotten in favor of savoring the moment; his hands were sliding lower and lower; their erections rubbed against one another on their own accord, starting a spiral of pleasure and doom all at once… There was no telling where this kiss would have led, even despite Jee's iron resolve not to push it any further than that – but for the sound of heavy footsteps on the staircase, louder and louder, steadily embedding itself into Jee's clouded-yet-sharpened consciousness.

Iroh.

He pushed Zuko away again, forcefully this time, and held him firmly by the neck, gazing hard into the boy's hazy eyes.

"You are _not_ ready for this," he gritted out determinedly, making sure each word settled itself in Zuko's mind and stuck there. "Now, we will not talk about this again. Ever. Do you understand?"

He didn't wait for a reply, but pushed Zuko back onto the bed and grabbed the covers, pulling it from under the boy in one, swift tug. With practiced, military precision, he covered Zuko with them, ignoring the boy's bewildered "Hey!".

"Pretend you're asleep," Jee ordered, sitting on the revolving chair by the desk, a nice, respectable distance from Zuko. "Or at least try to look like you're about to. You're uncle's coming."

This seemed to finally anchor the boy to reality; quickly, he pulled the covers up to his head and lay on his side facing Jee, squeezing his eyes shut. His breathing hadn't returned to normal yet but he took admirable pains to calm it, just like Jee was trying to do with his own.

The man licked his lips, as though this could erase the taste of Zuko from them and thus destroy incriminating evidence. The telling tent in his pants was a more difficult issue, but thankfully he'd heard the footsteps early enough to still be able to do something about it – he shut his eyes and promptly went through the impressive collection of memories which never failed to cool him down. The rush of adrenaline and the flesh memory of Zuko, still very fresh on his skin, made it tricky, but by the time Iroh's footsteps were heard on the floor of the Xi apartment, the situation was more or less under control.

A quick glance at Zuko assured him the boy was determined to play the part of Sleeping Beauty, though Jee was fairly sure no person ever slept with their faces scrunched up in such a frown without having nightmares, never mind sleeping princesses. But maybe this was his normal sleeping face and Iroh wouldn't find it suspicious? His breathing had returned more or less to normal and the flush of his cheeks was barely visible in the reddish lamplight. Good. They were both more or less presentable.

Therefore, when Iroh emerged from the gloom of the hall outside to peek into the bedroom, he was greeted with a slightly tired smile of the former lieutenant Jee, spinning this way and that on Zuko's revolving chair.

Jee put his finger to his mouth in the universal "hush" gesture and indicated Zuko with a jerk of his head. The old man took one look at the immobile lump that was his nephew under the bedcovers, smiled with visible relief and motioned for Jee to come over.

"My sincere apologies, Lieutenant," he whispered, closing the door slowly. "I'm afraid I burdened you with my nephew for longer than you expected. Alas, my duties kept me very busy, but I knew Zuko was in capable hands. I hope he wasn't too difficult?"

"Don't worry," Jee made a dismissive gesture and had to bite his tongue to keep himself from adding _sir_. He was pleased to discover his voice was only a little rawer than usual. "He… uh… Well, I managed to keep the situation under control."

_Like fuck I did_.

"Most admirable," Iroh patted him on the shoulder, though he was barely tall enough to reach it. "I'm afraid Zuko can be rather… troublesome."

"I think that's a euphemism given the circumstances," Jee permitted himself a resentful glance at the door, which was now completely closed. "Does he – "

"Does he drink regularly?" Iroh finished the question for him, moving to turn the light on in the hall. "No, Lieutenant. Zuko is a good boy, albeit a very troubled one." At this point Jee had to physically stop himself from snorting; whatever Zuko was, he was _not_ a good boy. "There was a brief period when he'd gotten himself into some bad company, but I am happy to say this is no longer the case, even though I have to admit it was good to see him interact with his peers outside of school. Poor children. I sometimes wonder what has become of the boy who showed such a fierce interest in my nephew… But I digress. No, Lieutenant, I haven't seen Zuko in such a state in a long time. Rest assured I will talk to him about it in the morning and make certain that it won't happen again."

"Please be sure to stress how dangerous it was," said Jee for lack of a better idea. "Drinking in public like that could have gotten him arrested… Not to mention it's terribly wrong and irresponsible, naturally."

"Of course." Iroh nodded and folded his arms so that his palms disappeared into the long sleeves of his robes. Jee briefly wondered if the man ever wore casual clothes and immediately pictured him in a fluffy, homemade jumper. "Now, I'm sure you're anxious to rejoin our lovely Ming, Lieutenant, but I wonder if you could spare a moment more? There is something I'd like to show you, as Zuko's coach."

Jee nodded, glancing once more at the door to Zuko's bedroom.

For a second, he wondered if, right in this moment, the boy was masturbating on the other side of it. The fleeting mental image came dangerously close to stirring Jee's barely-stifled desire anew, but thankfully it didn't get a chance to blossom as Iroh promptly marched down the hall, motioning for Jee to follow.

The old teashop owner led his guest into a spacious, elegant sitting room which displayed a mixture of affluent modernity and Asian tradition, done more tastefully and effectively than in Zuko's bedroom. The dominant colors here were white and various shades of brown, with sparse, elegant furniture, a big, flat-screen television and a giant window occupying nearly the entire wall opposite the entrance. The most prominent element of the room, however, was an impressive collection of trophies and medals, displayed proudly in a glass cabinet opposite the television set, by the comfortable-looking leather sofa.

It was in front of this cabinet that Iroh stopped, waiting for Jee to join him.

"All Zuko's," announced the old man, visibly swelling with pride. "From martial arts tournaments."

Jee whistled in appreciation. He knew the kid was good, but damn, those were some really big trophies in here… And so many of them.

"I tried to convince him to keep them in his bedroom so that he could look at his past successes every day, but he didn't want to hear about it," continued Iroh quietly. "To this day, I don't know why he was so averse to the idea. You will find, Lieutenant, that Zuko is an exceptionally driven boy."

"Yes, I did notice something to this effect," murmured Jee, gazing from one trophy to the other.

Christ, it looked like the kid stood on the podium in the majority of tournaments he'd ever competed in. Sure, there were silver and brown medals as well as golden ones and some of the trophies were for places lower than the top three, but _still_…

Iroh was right. Jee did appreciate seeing this.

"My nephew is not one to brag about his accomplishments, but I thought you'd like to see it… especially since he is going to compete in the national championships this year."

Jee frowned. "He never mentioned anything."

"I thought so," Iroh nodded sadly. "I'm not asking to give him any special treatment, Lieutenant, but should he happen to request some extra training time before the championship…"

It was only by a miracle of self-control that Jee didn't smash his head against the glass right there and then.

_Having fun up there, you fuckers who decided it would be fun to screw my life up _again_?_

"I'll do my best to help," he promised aloud, because what else was there to say?

Iroh let him go quite quickly after that, with only the minimum amount of small talk – Jee didn't remember ever running away from anywhere with such profound relief, maybe except for the nightly guard duties at boot camp. He found Ming chatting to Piandao and the rest of the Pai Sho gang at their table, so he strolled over, striving to appear nonchalant. It was alarming how difficult he found it.

Suki's girls were no longer performing – the stage was presently occupied by one of the teachers Jee was less acquainted with, carelessly delivering her own rendition of _I Will Survive_. Which probably meant it was karaoke time.

Whatever. Jee wasn't going to stick around to enjoy it.

"Oh, there you are!" said Ming once she spotted him. "I was getting worried. Everything all right?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," replied the man laconically, nodding at all the men at the Pai Sho table. "Good evening."

"I'm snatching him back to my table, then, gentlemen," announced the cheerleaders' coach, taking Jee by the arm and steering him away from the group. "Sorry."

The Pai Sho players laughed and let them go, with Bumi The Nutter wolf-whistling lewdly after them; Jee was unspeakably glad for Ming's straightforwardness. He really, really wasn't in the mood to interact with more tea enthusiasts. In fact, he feared that if he didn't get the hell out of the Jasmine Dragon soon, he might just start shouting.

"So, do you feel like a drink?" offered Ming once they were seated at their table. "And how's Zuko?"

"Ming…" Jee sighed and looked at his companion imploringly. "I'm sorry, but would you mind if we just paid and left? I… I need to clear my head."

She looked surprised, but didn't question him.

Jee only permitted himself to breathe easily once he took his seat in Ming's car, shutting the door behind him. His companion didn't say anything once she started the engine and pulled out of their parking spot, nor did she question him when he asked:

"Would you mind stopping by the park? I think I need a short walk."

"Sure," she answered. "It's a lovely night."

It was, but Jee noticed it only when she pointed it out. His mind was too full of warm, eager teenage boy whose lips still burned on his own.

"So," said Ming, turning on the radio. "You never told me how Zuko was."

"Not bad, for a drunk kid," Jee shrugged, looking out the window at the night lights of Summerfield flickering past them. "I think he only threw up twice. Managed to avoid doing that on my shirt, too. I'd consider that pretty good going. He was asleep when I left."

"No idea what could have gotten into him?"

"Nope. He's a strange kid."

"Yeah," Mind nodded. "He really is."

She let Damien Rice fill the silence in her car with his slow ballads and lulling vocals and didn't press Jee for more conversation until she parked in the lot by the Summerfield City Park, its gates still open at this time of night. Then, she announced with finality that she was coming with Jee, to which he could only nod.

The park wasn't big, though pleasant enough. Located just at the outskirts of downtown, it reached out naturally to the suburbs and provided a natural border of green between the two. Jee'd strolled through it before, back when he was still exploring the scarce pleasures Summerfield had to offer. By day it was filled with the elderly soaking up the last of the sunshine, sometimes kids and people walking their dogs, with the occasional joggers, skaters and bikers. The lieutenant jogged here himself a couple of times when the weather made it possible. Now, it seemed deserted but for the occasional hobo, sitting on one of the benches and gazing up at the night sky.

"Okay," Ming sighed once they found a spot by the pond with a fountain which was currently out of order. "What's wrong? Spill."

Jee shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no way he could tell anyone what was _really_ wrong, but it was honesty hour anyway and he had one secret he _had_ to share with Ming. Might as well be brutally honest and be done with it, he really didn't feel like playing at tact anymore.

He was so tired…

"I'm gay," he confessed, joining his hands together and gazing at them rather than at the woman next to him, wincing as the weariness crept into his voice. "Sorry. Should have told you sooner."

"Yes." Ming's voice felt like ice cubs dropping down his back once she finally decided to use it, which felt like hours. "You should have."

"I'm sorry."

She didn't reply.

They sat there for a while in heavy silence, the air around them growing colder by the minute, the night going on its steady course undisturbed, the city lights in the distance painting a picture of disconnected glowing dots before them. In this silence Jee searched his mind for something to say, but couldn't come up with anything that wouldn't sound dumb, hollow or plain insulting, so he kept his mouth shut, allowing Ming to make up her mind about the whole mess in peace.

The cool air felt good on his face. Might just prevent a headache.

"So why didn't you?" asked the woman eventually, leaning back on the bench and crossing her arms as if to shield herself from further blows. "Tell me, I mean. You knew I was interested."

"I did," Jee agreed. "And I'm sorry, I know this makes me twice the asshole."

"Yes, it does. So? Did you want to use me as a beard? Because I'd be pissed, but I'd understand. People do that, especially in towns like Summerfield."

"No, that wasn't… I mean, partly, yeah. Maybe. But I wanted to tell you tonight, anyway. I didn't want to lead you on. I like your company and thought this might be a good opportunity."

Ming sighed. "Let me guess," she murmured. "You were waiting for the right moment."

"In short, yes."

"I hate it when men do that," hissed the woman, looking up at the sky. "Why can't people simply say things right away? I thought _you_ did. That's partly why I liked you. Well, that and your sideburns."

"I do, most of the time," Jee admitted, smirking at the sideburns part. "With varying results. One doesn't get to be 38 without learning some basic survival skills, though, and not being straightforward on this particular point turned out to be one of them. Sadly."

"You don't have to tell _me_ that," whispered Ming. "One of my best friends is a lesbian. It's just that… well, never mind. Thanks for telling me at all."

"Sorry," repeated Jee, because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

The woman shrugged. "I'll get over it. What I don't understand is, what caused this sudden grumpy mood? Why were you so desperate to get out of there?"

"I guess babysitting drunk teenagers is bad for my mental health."

"It's a good thing you're gay, then. You won't ever have to deal with your own adolescents."

"Yeah," Jee murmured gloomily. "Lucky me."

_Hello, irony. If you only knew_…

"You do realize that you owe me a night out?" asked Ming after a new spell of silence, this one somewhat more comfortable. "In a pub of my choosing. With karaoke. I'm not gonna let you off the hook just because subsequent fucking is no longer on the menu."

Jee smiled at her then, genuine gratitude on his face. This woman was nothing short of amazing.

"But just so you know," Ming continued quietly, looking ahead at the city lights, "I'm still mad at you. So you'd do well to stay clear of me next week. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Still. It was good to know he didn't screw up _everything_ quite beyond redemption.

* * *

**A/N 2**: ... *breathe out* Right. I'll just... hide. Yeah. That's what I'll do.

Once again, massive thanks to everyone who reviewed - every bit of feedback helps! Special thank you goes to DanaBanana because I couldn't reply to you directly - your insight is greatly appreciated :)

In chapter 8: amends are made, a deal is struck and Jee uses the word "adorable".


	10. INTERLUDE II: Zuko

**A/N**: As you all probably realized from the title of this one, this is NOT chapter 8 proper. You can expect _that_ in about a week. In the meantime, here is another glimpse into the mind of the other side of the whole mess, so to speak, which, for many reasons, I believe to be necessary at this point in the story. I hope you'll agree with me after reading.

One more announcement: I am done moving my stories, including this one, to Archive of Our Own, so if you prefer to read it (and, hopefully, comment) there, now you can. It will make it easier for me to respond to those of you who are not logged-in users of this website. :)

* * *

The herbal tea was strong in his nostrils and even stronger on his tongue. Zuko winced after the first sip, hot bitterness bleeding into his throat, but kept drinking, conscious of Uncle's hawk-sharp gaze. He was prepared to drink anything the old man gave him after last night, especially if it was supposed to help him get rid of the nausea in his stomach and the hell in his head.

Or the physical one, anyway. No herbs, however strong, would chase away the memories.

As he sipped the tea in silence, he tried to look anywhere but at Uncle. The disappointment etched there was more than he could handle.

"Will you explain now?" the old man asked softly, sitting across from him at the kitchen table to a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

Zuko shook his head.

"It was nothing."

"Zuko," there was a subtle warning in Uncle's voice. "You haven't behaved like that in a long time. If there's something troubling you, I want to know. Maybe I can help."

"You can't," murmured Zuko, and only then he realized his slip; _idiot_! He bit his lip, shut his eyes for a moment and then amended: "You can't help because there's nothing to help with. It was just… I don't know. I really hate Music Night."

He risked a glance up at Uncle then; the old man was watching him with faint traces of amusement.

"It seems I failed to fathom the depths of your hatred," he commented, a comforting echo of his usual cheeriness creeping back into his voice.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," whispered Zuko. "It was stupid."

"Yes, it was."

"I guess I have a lot on my mind, that's all."

"Is this about college?" asked Uncle Iroh, his voice growing concerned again. "Because if it is, you really shouldn't worry. I'm confident they will accept you. You have wonderful grades. Even if you don't get into Harvard or Yale like your Father wanted, I'm sure – "

Zuko gripped his steaming mug more tightly. "Uncle, please," he uttered, lowering his head. "I don't want to talk about it."

He really, really didn't.

"Very well. But if you need me, I'm here."

Zuko could only bring himself to nod.

Once upstairs, in the safe sanctuary of his bedroom, he shut the door behind him and collapsed face-down on the bed, deciding against turning the stereo on. With this damnable hangover the music might just split his head in half and he needed it now to think, however strong the temptation to just curl into a tight ball and sleep through the rest of Sunday.

He needed to decide on what to do once Monday came, first, because he sure as hell couldn't face it unprepared.

It was a good thing the Jasmine Dragon stayed closed on Sundays – nothing disturbed him up here apart from the usual street noises and those, too, were noticeably quieter in the morning. Most of the district seemed to have jumped at their only chance to sleep in and have a quiet day off.

Maybe he should take this chance and try to meditate. He hadn't done it in a while, too distracted with everything else…

But there was no way he could meditate _now_, with this fucking hangover – though Uncle's nasty herbs were already helping – and with the memories of last night driving him insane.

If only…

If only he could talk to Mai. Even if he wouldn't tell her everything – oh hell no – just… hearing her voice… having her berate him and call him an idiot… would perhaps be enough to lend him some strength to face Jee once the week started. But Mai was on the other side of the country, wasn't she, and probably with Azula or her parents, and there was the time difference to consider anyway and…

But he needed her. Needed the unconditional, rough support that only she could provide.

After a few minutes of internal battle, he caved in and sent a short text to her secret mobile, hoping she'd call him back once she found a convenient moment. They only contacted each other this way if there was an emergency on either side – it was far too risky to keep in touch regularly, with Azula almost constantly breathing down Mai's neck and her parents probably supervising every call she'd ever made and every social network she'd set up a profile on. The last time they talked had been when Zuko broke up with Jet, though "breaking up" was perhaps too strong a term to describe something which had not even been a proper relationship to begin with, and that was summer over a year ago.

He missed her.

But that wasn't _the_ problem at the moment, was it…

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose and ran a hand through his hair in helplessness, fervently wishing for something to kick. Or for a place where he could scream and scream until he screamed out _everything_.

No. The problem was that he'd made a _complete idiot_ of himself, that he'd humiliated himself beyond any sane belief and stepped right into a situation he had no idea how to navigate through.

But he was so angry, so fucking damn angry. And hurt. And…

And he couldn't, he just couldn't. Something in him just went bust. It was too much. And all he wanted was to just forget, to dumb his senses until he couldn't feel anything, and maybe that was a stupid urge, a _loser's_ urge, and he _couldn't afford_ to be a loser – he _fucking wasn't_ – but to allow himself this one moment of numbness, of indifference, of _not caring_ that only one way could bring him, just this one time…

And then Jee was there, was _there with him_, so fucking close, and he was sending all kinds of mixed signals again, and he, Zuko didn't even know. He was so confused. But then he wasn't anymore, and it was as though his mind just _exploded_, and he didn't know _why_ he wanted it, but he did, and it almost felt as if he absolutely _needed_ the confirmation from Jee or he would…

He just fucking plunged right in, didn't he, without thinking it all through _at all_. Acting on his impulses. Like he always did, and _of course_ it had exploded in his face. Everything always did.

He just didn't want to be pushed away. Not after everything. That would have been…

Fuck, he'd felt so vulnerable and exposed then. If Jee hadn't actually kissed him, if he'd walked out on him…

Gods, he really shouldn't have drunk so much.

He's going to see Jee tomorrow. After… everything.

Shit.

Zuko groaned, then shifted on the bed so that he lay across it, his head hanging off the edge, his legs propped up on the wall, feet crossed. His eyes fell on the photos pinned to his corkboard – upside-down, he gazed at Mai for a while until he got dizzy. Rather hopelessly, because her photo did nothing to help mute the memory of Jee kissing him – _that_ image was still reigning supreme in his head and absolutely forbidding him to think of anything else.

Christ, that was just…

Fuck.

If the man's intention was to drive him away by kissing him like that, he failed epically. Zuko felt unbearably hot just thinking about it and there was almost no doubt left in his mind that he wanted it – all of it. He hesitated before, fought with his own body over this on daily basis and grappled with self-hatred almost every night, questioning those confounded desires and overanalyzing everything till dawn, but now he had the phantom feeling of Jee's lips on his – a _memory_ this time, not just a fantasy – and of his hands holding him, and one thing he knew for sure was that _he wanted more_.

It was nothing like this with Mai. Or with Jet. The last one especially had been quite the disaster. But at least it had taught Zuko that even now, even after what his father had done to him, he could _still_ be desirable. Could still be considered wanted, attractive, and the confirmation of that in Jee's eyes and touch was –

Addictive. And going straight into his head, even stronger than the wine.

He needed to feel it again. Needed to feel wanted. Jet had taught him that, he'd given Zuko a taste of what it was like, he'd ignited a spark… And now that spark in him was a full-blown fire, wild and reckless and in need of more kindling. Now that he'd tasted the thrill of seduction, he just couldn't let it go, no matter how much his brain wanted to fight it.

It wasn't just that, though. Jee was… different. He was from the outside looking in, a fighter, like Zuko. And yeah, Jet was a fighter too, but Jet was crazy and didn't know anything, was just as angry and confused as Zuko and they only dragged each other down. Jee, on the other hand, seemed so… battered, so battle-worn, yeah, but not _defeated_. He was a survivor. He could adjust. He could actually _leave things behind him._

This man must have seen and known so much, must have so much to share, experiences to talk about, lessons to offer. Shit, he even admitted to having been a drinker at Zuko's age. Which meant that, perhaps… he understood. Or at least wouldn't judge, wouldn't push him away, just like that.

Besides, though Jee didn't know it, he came from the world Zuko knew. He served in the military. He was a man of the inner circle, had probably been in the thick of things and wore the Navy about him as other people wore perfume. Like Uncle. Like Lu Ten.

_(Like Father_.)

Jee was an enigma and parts of him were still beyond Zuko's grasp, but… Recently, it felt as if… as if they'd connected, somehow. It must have meant something. Jee seemed to be trying to communicate some kind of message to Zuko – even last night. And, despite himself, Zuko was growing more and more fascinated. Drawn in.

And the feel of Jee's big, strong body engulfing Zuko's was just…

He'd never felt anything like that before.

(_Only… he had. There was a dim, misty, years-old memory buried somewhere deep in his mind, covered with cobwebs and all but dead, that now stirred and convulsed as though in rigor mortis, sparking an old, painful longing. A child briefly embraced by his father._)

Zuko shut his eyes against the image, suddenly feeling sick.

(_No. It wasn't like that._ He _wasn't like that._)

And Jee wanted him right back, he all but admitted it. Zuko wouldn't have gambled everything on this one kiss otherwise, even drunk out of his mind.

So where did this leave them?

Zuko changed positions again, leaving his feet up against the wall but shifting so that his head rested on the bed as well, his arms crossed behind it.

Jee said he wanted to help him. This could mean many, many things, however, and Zuko wasn't sure which of those his teacher had on his mind. Only one fact seemed certain – they needed to talk.

And Zuko absolutely loathed talking about his feelings, especially as he felt so confused about them – because what could he possibly say, that he had no idea what was going on with him? – but there seemed to be no hope for it. Everything depended on Monday now, on what Jee'd say.

Zuko already had a pretty good idea as to what it could be: more denial. More self-preserving crap. Very well then, he could play along. He needed the time to sort himself out somehow, especially after last night – because even though he now had a very clear idea of _what _he wanted, he still couldn't for the life of him grasp _why_ he wanted this particular thing so badly, and however strongly he might hate Jee's reasoning, he had to admit the guy was actually in the right here.

However one put it, what he wanted now wasn't… It wasn't right.

Damn. Everything about it was just so messed up.

_He_ was so messed up.

What would Father think if he saw into his thoughts now? What would _Mother_ think?

Maybe Jee was right. Maybe it really was better to just let go… Even if he really, really didn't want to.

Play for time. Play it safe for now. See where things would go from there. That seemed to be the best option right now. And Zuko could hate this plan – he despised waiting and standing idly by – but the alternative was literary pushing himself on Jee and he'd _never_ do that.

Gods, he had no idea what he was doing.

So yes, maybe some space to breathe, pause and start over was not such a bad thing after all.

And then he might learn what exactly Jee meant by "help."


	11. Chapter 8: Aftermath

**A/N**: A small announcement before we start: some of you may have already noticed that "Substitute" now has a companion piece to go with it, "The Locker Room". So far there are two shorts, one of which is relevant to the actual story while the other, mostly, isn't. There shall be more, so check it out if you haven't already.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled fanfiction, in which there is a moment to breathe after the monumental screw-up of the previous chapter and Jee finds himself extolling the joys of teaching.

Warning: contains Optimist!Jee.

* * *

Considering everything that had happened over the weekend, Jee expected Monday to be nothing short of a disaster. It took considerable willpower just to drag himself out of bed and force some meager breakfast down his body – a part of him even wanted to just call in sick and give himself a bit more time before facing… Well. What he had to face eventually. But that would be a cowardly thing to do and Jee did not survive over fifteen years of naval service by being a coward. Experience taught him long ago that the best way of dealing with the messes he'd created was to simply face them head-on, because if he didn't, they had the tendency to fester and grow like some nasty weed.

Besides, he was an officer in the damn military services, wasn't he? Or used to be. Anyhow, he sure as hell was not afraid of any teenagers.

So he valiantly soldiered through his first three classes – though they did pass in something of a blur – congratulating his third-period students on a great performance at the Jasmine Dragon and exchanging noncommittal remarks with Piandao in-between. The man clearly wanted to chat about Music Night, but he'd caught on to Jee's peculiar mood rather quickly and mercifully left him alone. The lieutenant spent his lunch break in the shared office, leaving greasy stains everywhere and fine-tuning the physical tests he'd have to subject his students to soon to sweat some grades out of them; and whiled away his vacant fourth period running on the empty track to the point of exhaustion, trying to gear himself up for a confrontation which he knew was impossible to avoid.

And if Zuko didn't want to initiate it this time, Jee would. He had some serious apologizing to do and needed to at least try to right this huge-ass goddamn mess. Leaving it like this was not even an option.

He steered clear of Ming, too, keeping in mind her words back in the park; but she did offer him a half-smile when they passed each other in the corridor, so maybe this meant he was getting back into at least one person's good graces.

Still, even despite a quick smoke after his jog, the nervous tension stayed with Jee when Zuko's class started, and from one glance at the boy – hanging on in the back of the class, head low, avoiding eye-contact – he gathered they both felt equally wretched.

At least Jee had a sort-of-plan how to fix this, something which he spent nearly all of Sunday mulling over. Iroh showing him the trophies that disastrous night did give him an idea which, to be perfectly honest, _might_ help him get his relationship with the boy sorted out, but it might also fuck things up completely and beyond repair. It was a risk, but one that Jee was prepared to take after everything that had happened.

He needed to do _something_.

So, with that in mind, he drilled the boys through an extensive warm-up and then led a couple semi-complicated katas, half-concentrating on the task at hand and half-forming a speech he would deliver later, once the rest of the class was dismissed.

And he dearly hoped the rest of the boys wouldn't start getting suspicious. How many times now was he about to have a private conversation with Zuko that the other students could see? They really needed to be more careful in the way they interacted. All it took was a tiny smidgen of suspicion in the wrong head and everything could go BOOM!, just like that…

Thankfully, Zuko seemed to get the message from Jee's meaningful glances; he lingered behind after class so that the lieutenant didn't have to ask him to stay openly. Sokka did glance at the pair of them upon leaving, but there was nothing more dangerous than ordinary curiosity in his eyes before he shrugged and followed his friends to the showers, calling after Bolin.

Which left just the two of them in the big, empty gym, with the memory of Saturday night hanging between them like a big, slimy ghost. For a moment, just as Jee predicted, the situation remained _very_ awkward, with him and Zuko just standing there, a good distance from each other, and looking anywhere but in the other's eyes – and both of them remembering _exactly_ what had passed, reliving every detail of the kiss which had no right to happen but happened anyway. Jee was _sure_ it was on the forefront of Zuko's mind just as vividly as it was on his own.

After all, he'd been reliving that scene on replay practically non-stop since it happened so that every detail was by now as firmly embedded in his mind as though it were a rock. And seeing Zuko in the flesh again, right here before him, did nothing to put the plug on his spinning thoughts.

But he couldn't let the silence stretch into something heavy and unbreakable – and the more time they spent avoiding what had to be said, the harder it would become to actually choke something out, as was always the case with scenarios like this one – so he decided to embrace his role as the responsible adult and cleared his throat as a preamble.

"So," he started, channeling the confidence he did _not_, in fact, posses at the moment, and winced at the gruffness in his voice. The boy still wouldn't meet his eyes. "Zuko. I know I said we'd never talk about what happened, but I think you'll agree with me that we do need to have this conversation."

The boy lifted his gaze, but only for a split of second.

"Yeah," he murmured, the textbook definition of nervousness. "Look, I…"

It looked to all intents and purposes like a fit of anxiety-fuelled, hesitant babbling was coming his way; Jee decided to put an end to it before the kid had the chance to humiliate himself beyond recovery, at least in his own eyes.

"Sit down," he offered, indicating one of the benches. "We don't have much time before the next class starts."

Zuko did as he was told wordlessly, without looking at Jee.

Right. This was going to be even more difficult than expected. The brat's ways to make every situation ten times harder were practically uncanny.

Jee sat next to the boy – taking care to maintain a good distance – and cleared his throat again, about to launch himself into the speech, when a movement caught his eye; he glanced down to see Zuko twisting his fingers nervously, maybe even without realizing he was doing it. He'd obviously rather be abandoned on ice in some bit of frozen tundra in Alaska than stay here in this gym. And Jee had absolutely no idea how to put him at ease in a way that wouldn't involve touching.

Whatever evil forces once whispered to him that teaching in high school would somehow be a good idea, he'd never know. He obviously wasn't destined to deal with moody adolescents.

But he had a _very_ moody specimen on his hands right now, and it needed to be dealt with regardless of whether Jee felt ready for it or not.

Better get this over and done with straight away. Head-on, soldier.

"Look, kid, I'm sorry," he began, looking down at Zuko. Maybe if he gazed at him hard and long enough, he'd somehow make the brat look back at him.

The Xi boy tensed and stopped moving, but did not raise his head.

"I never should have allowed things to go this far. It was unprofessional and wrong and I shouldn't have taken advantage of you. I'll understand if you want to report me."

It wasn't much of a gamble – Jee would bet his annual salary that Zuko wouldn't report him to anyone. But he meant it anyway and made sure to have this earnestness reflected in his voice. It was _absolutely crucial_ that Zuko understand his rights and options; that he know he had a way out. That Jee wouldn't put any pressure on him, wouldn't abuse the position of power being a teacher gave him, wouldn't set any conditions. This had been weighing heavily on Jee's conscience ever since that damned night and he had to get this across first and foremost, before moving on to anything else.

Apparently, it was the right thing to say, too: it finally provoked Zuko to look him in the eye.

Or maybe 'stare' was more like it.

"You're kidding, right?" the boy whispered.

Jee shook his head somberly. "No, I'm not. It was wrong and off-limits. You have every right to report me." He schooled his expression so that it betrayed nothing but absolute conviction and honesty, before he pressed on, holding Zuko's gaze: "I want you to know that I will not hold a grudge against you and it won't in any way affect your grades. Whatever you tell the Headmaster, I'll confirm without making a fuss. I'm not pressuring you into anything, kid. The choice is yours."

"No!" Zuko nearly jumped off the bench in agitation; Jee had to marvel yet again at the boy's spontaneous expressiveness. "I'd never… I wouldn't… It wasn't… Shit." He pinched the bridge of his nose, settling down again, and sighed. "It was me," he mumbled so quietly Jee had to strain his ears to decipher the words. "My fault. I… You were right, it was stupid. I didn't… I wasn't trying to…" His head dipped even lower than before, hair falling all over his face. "I don't want you to get fired."

Well. That was… good to know.

Jee let that last sentence hang between them for a while before he cleared his throat again and nudged Zuko with his elbow.

"Does it mean you'll stop flirting with me?"

He didn't exactly mean it to sound playful, but somehow it ended up coming out that way anyway; when Zuko looked up at him again, it was with a very odd expression indeed.

"It means…" started the teenager, once again getting his awkward on; he raked a hand through his hair in frustration, trying to find the right words.

Jee didn't remember ever feeling more glad for not being a teen anymore.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Zuko spat out finally. "I shouldn't have… uh. It wasn't right."

Now it was Jee's turn to stare at the kid as though he had just announced he was going to work as Mickey Mouse in Disney's Magic Kingdom. He may not have known Zuko all that long, but he was fairly certain that him apologizing to anyone over anything was an occasion of positively momentous proportions, worthy of noting down on calendars. That alone gave him quite a decent indication of Zuko's current state of mind.

He really must be feeling embarrassed and guilty about the whole thing – maybe even as guilty as Jee himself. Damn.

It would probably be best not to comment on the apology itself; he might never get another one if he pushed it. Time to move on. The difficult bit was still ahead of them.

"Look here," he said after a pause, sighing heavily. "It's _not_ your fault. I know what it's like to feel confused about your own body. I've been there. It isn't easy. And it's something that no guidance counselor can get you through. You're at the stage when you need to experiment and explore and I get it."

He sighed again, knowing how risky it was what he wanted to say next, but went ahead with it anyway because right now, reassuring Zuko was more important than his own discomfort:

"I had my first boyfriend when I was about your age."

Zuko shouldn't really be surprised by this – Jee _had_ kissed him, after all, and foolishly went ahead and showed just how susceptible he was to his flirtation – but the kid's head snapped to him anyway, as though the lieutenant had just shared a revelation of truly groundbreaking proportions, possibly rivaling the first moon-landing.

"Had crushes on other guys even earlier," Jee went on, making a show of looking down at his hands to spare Zuko the embarrassment of being caught staring. "Not exactly a welcome thing, back where I grew up. Had to deal with all kinds of shit. Felt like punching everyone's face in, day after day. So what I'm trying to say is," he lifted his head then and looked right into Zuko's eyes, "I don't want you to feel like I'm pushing you away. I'm not. I can't have a relationship with you, kid, but I _can_ help you. I can at least listen to whatever you have to say, when you need it. I can answer any questions you may have. I can support you. The question is, will you accept it?

"And let's be clear on one thing," Jee's voice grew stern as he held Zuko's gaze; this was _the_ important part he needed the kid to pay really close attention to, or the whole endeavor would be for nothing. "There's _no subtext_ to this. I'm _not_ trying to get closer to you just to get into your pants and I will _not_ try to flirt with you if you do decide to accept what I'm offering. I have a proposition for you, but I don't want you to read anything deeper into it. The fact that I… well, that I might find you attractive doesn't mean I'm communicating anything unseemly. Try to keep that in mind, okay?"

Zuko nodded, brow furrowing in concentration. He was trying to puzzle Jee out. Well, good luck with that.

"Your uncle mentioned something about a championship," Jee picked up the speech after a loaded pause which, he hoped, only emphasized how serious he was about the last bit. "I'd like to offer you private lessons to help you prepare. Say, twenty minutes to half an hour every Thursday after DDC. Just training, the two of us. _And nothing more_."

Yes, he had to make that part absolutely clear. Repeating it five more times probably wouldn't be enough. But Zuko was looking straight at him now, his lopsided gaze hard and intent, and once again Jee fancied he could see the cogs turning in the kid's head as he tried to analyze everything his teacher said and make sense of the situation.

Jee let him take his time. He said his bit, dropped the bombshell and now all he had to do was wait for a reaction and pray that he hadn't just made a huge mistake. A part of him, probably the insane, irrational one that couldn't walk away from a broken, sniveling rookie without at least trying to help, _really_ wanted to connect with the kid and make right what he'd ruined on Saturday. Fighting in private, using a non-verbal language Zuko seemed to speak, away from other teenagers who would set him on edge, seemed like a good way to do it. As long as both of them made an effort to keep things safe and proper, this could really work.

The question was, would Zuko stick to Jee's conditions. The man wasn't sure how much more of the brat's teasing he could take without either breaking every single resolution he'd made on the matter or losing his mind.

Maybe what happened between them on Saturday really did scare Zuko a bit, though, or perhaps Jee's earlier speech actually succeeded in helping him realize the possible repercussions – he seemed much more subdued and apologetic, and when he finally murmured a quiet "Ok" into his hands, it sounded genuine. At least for the moment.

And, for the first time that day, Jee smiled, feeling as though a backpack full of explosives had just been taken off his back. This meant they were more or less done here. There was only one more thing left to clarify before he let the kid go, hopefully with both their minds set moderately at ease:

"_Don't_ think it's favoritism," he said. "It's not. I'm going to extend the same offer to your clubmates. If anyone wants to have extra training time, I'll make myself available to them. So don't go feeling too special."

For a moment, he was afraid this remark might jeopardize his earlier efforts to _make_ Zuko feel special – there really was no telling how the kid would react. Talking to him felt remarkably like reporting to Jee's less mentally stable officers in the Navy, only worse, because the worst the officers could do to him was yell at him and demote him; with Zuko, it seemed that anything could happen.

However, some merciful higher power appeared to have taken pity on both of them and granted Zuko enough insight that the boy actually detected the undercurrent of mock seriousness in Jee's voice – when he turned to look at his teacher again, he wasn't smiling, exactly, but there was something astonishingly warm in his face and a suggestion of a spark in his healthy eye. Relief, too, painted as on a canvas on his visibly relaxing body. Clearly he was just as glad of the direction their talk had taken – and of it being almost over – as Jee was.

What happened next only proved it.

"I think it's too late for that, Lieutenant," Zuko said softly, standing up, and Jee was pleased to hear the nervousness was gone from his voice. His body, too, definitely seemed more relaxed, especially in comparison to how it was just minutes ago. When Zuko spoke next, there was no denying a new, hesitant playfulness creeping into his manner: "Unless you kiss all your students."

Jee's jaw did not fall open only thanks to the years of practice he'd had in keeping a straight face no matter what.

Here was Zuko. Being playful. And trying to joke.

Those words were dangerous here, where anyone could look into the gym and overhear, but, fuck it, Jee smiled wider anyway. He couldn't possibly help it if he tried. This was such a new, unexpected side of Xi that he'd never seen before – probably very few had, coming to think of it – and it was so damn _adorable_ that Jee suddenly wished they could go through conversations like this one every day if _that_ was to be the outcome.

Maybe someday he could get the kid to give him a genuine smile. Now wouldn't that be a sight.

"Don't get too cocky," Jee admonished him with exaggerated sternness, but his smile stayed on, and the atmosphere around them gained extra few degrees.

"Or what?" Zuko crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his chin up, the very picture of a spoiled brat, but it was so obviously clear he was putting on a show that Jee felt so ridiculously satisfied with himself he could have laughed. "You're going to punish me, _Lieutenant_?"

"I might."

There! Right there. An almost-smile, flashing across Zuko's face quick as lightning, his expression wobbling under its force and under the strain of trying to hide it. The kid looked away after that, as if afraid that if he kept Jee's gaze any longer, his momentary collapse would actually show.

Yes. Someone really should give Jee a medal.

And maybe they should not be flirting like that minutes after they swore they would not, but it did not feel like flirting somehow – not this time. It felt light, and giddy, and perhaps they both had an excess of energy now that they needed to release, but Jee saw nothing wrong in this situation, safe in the conviction that he had done his duty and drew firm lines on the sand which Zuko agreed not to cross.

Besides, he almost made this boy smile. Nothing that produced such a result could possibly feel wrong.

"Go on, then," he said softly, scratching the back of his neck and feeling a profound sense of relief rushing over him like bliss. "Your education awaits."

Zuko nodded and turned to leave, but seemed to have a sudden thought pop into his mind; he turned to look at Jee again, the previous ease gone once more to be replaced by a return of hesitation.

"You won't back out of it, will you?" he asked, holding Jee's gaze. "The private lessons. Should I really stay on Thursday?"

"Yes. And no excuses. I'll tell your uncle what a lazy piece of work you are if you don't show up. We have plenty of work ahead of us."

This seemed to reassure the Xi boy; he nodded and made a weird little gesture with his hand, opening his mouth, as though he wanted to wave or say something more – but then he apparently thought better of it and promptly strode out of the gym without a backward glance at Jee.

Actually, make that a medal, a statue and a park named after him. Right now Jee felt he could do _anything._

It must have shown on his face when he burst into the office quickly to prepare for the next class; Piandao, who had been reading, looked up at him with some curiosity and smiled.

"Ah," he said amiably, "good to see your mood is improving. Pleasant class, I gather?"

"Yeah," Jee smiled back at him, sorting through his mess of grease-stained papers to find the right attendance list for sixth period. "Something like that."

He should really stop by Office Max today and get himself some decent folders, it was about time…

"I'm surprised," replied the other man, setting his book down on the desk. "I expected things to be rather awkward between you and Zuko Xi after you assisted him in his… predicament on Saturday. Did he apologize?"

"News travels fast, eh?" Jee smirked; _of course_ it would. Piandao must have known what happened, or the surface of it at least, he was there and seemed to count among Iroh's closest friends after all. "He did, amazingly. I gave him a pep talk. I think it's done some good."

His colleague nodded in satisfaction. "Such moments make teaching worthwhile, don't they?" he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Making a real difference. Helping. Guiding."

Under any normal circumstances, Jee would have rolled his eyes at this typical bit of Piandao-esque wisdom, but today, there was no trace of sarcasm in his voice as he replied:

"Yes. It can be pretty special."

He had felt it first-hand, after all, hadn't he, and not only today – though it was probably the biggest victory on his list to date. He used to feel this way really strongly back in the good old days, when he served as RDC and witnessed bunch after bunch of recruits graduate boot camp under his watchful eye. Later, after his promotion, he enjoyed instructing the rookies just as much and not only because it was damn well satisfying to run a tight ship and have people obey you without question, not out of fear, but out of respect. There was something to be said for when a green recruit addressed him as "sir" in a way which confirmed that he genuinely accepted Jee's authority, not because it was imposed on him but because he _chose_ to do so. The job of a substitute high school teacher didn't even come close to this feeling of profound pride and accomplishment – if anything, the hapless teenagers irritated him even more by contrast and served as a painful highlight to his disgrace. But then again, in none of the schools he'd worked at before did he come across someone like Zuko.

Someone who would really benefit from Jee's help. Someone he could work on. Who needed it.

And who, in strange, surprising ways, would turn out to be so similar to himself.

This didn't mean that all of their problems would magically go away – haha, no. Things ran much deeper than that, especially now that the very vivid memory of Zuko's lips haunted Jee incessantly, unsettling him with a throbbing, insistent kind of longing. But it was a solid beginning, a gateway, a foundation they could perhaps build on; and the very fact that Zuko agreed to take this step with him, to trust him enough to try, filled Jee with the kind of optimism that was probably just as rare as it was short-lived.

He found himself whistling as he made his way back to the gym, the correct list of attendance in hand. There was a new spring to his step that hadn't been there for a long time, and a giddy lightness which would probably disappear soon, making way for Jee's usual cynicism, but which, for now, filled him with a vague, long-lost sense of purpose.

He had a project now. A goal to work towards. Something to look forward to, instead of just wading through day after day in this gray little copy of a town before the proper teacher came back and he was summoned to another town exactly like this one, to settle in and start over, and over, and over.

And suddenly, just like that, even the gaudy school corridors didn't look quite so crass anymore.

* * *

**A/N 2**: As always, massive thanks to all of you who reviewed the previous chapter and relieved my anxiety over it.

You can expect chapter 9 in about two weeks. And in it: Jee is impressed, Zuko is angry and a certain police chief has a request.


	12. Chapter 9: Of Kids and Police Chiefs

**A/N**: I am happy to tell you that the wonderful Anankhe did a beautiful picture of the "How Chapter 7 Should Have Ended" kind and a series of ADORABLE sketches featuring our very own Zuko the Cat (which I think I mentioned before, but it's so cute it just has to be mentioned again). Do yourselves a favor and check them out! The links will be in my profile.

And now for your regularly scheduled fanfiction, in which two very awesome ladies finally make an entrance. This is another long one, guys, so go get yourselves a nice cuppa and sit back comfortably before you go on reading.

* * *

"Alright, let's go through this one last time. And no whining."

Jee heard the students flock slowly behind him, some of them groaning, a good deal of them panting, most of them too worn-out to waste their breath on voicing complaints.

He sympathized. He was pretty exhausted himself after a whole day of exercising. But it was a good, pleasant kind of exhaustion that relaxed the mind just as it strained the body and that reminded Jee, time and time again, just why he had chosen this particular career path to begin with. Sure, knowing self-defense was good and handy, especially in a place like Jee's old hometown, but physical exertion in and of itself was probably one of the main reasons for why Jee decided to devote himself to studying martial arts. There was something incredibly rewarding in pushing his physical limits and overcoming them, day by day, only to discover that his body was prepared to do a bit more every time.

Which, up until that point, had been the chief – and sometimes only – advantage of his current occupation as a substitute gym teacher. The job had many faults, hell yes, but it did give him the chance to exercise five days a week for almost six hours, and he could also order a bunch of lazy kids around into the bargain. All things considered, the deal seemed decent enough most of the time when Jee chose to be in a better mood.

He thrust his fist out in a swift punch and heard two dozen juvenile fists follow his example, with much better synch now that they'd practiced the routine for half the period. The other fist followed, and then a roundhouse kick that a few of the kids struggled with – which was alright, they were a level 1 class after all. Jee finished with a series of dynamic kicks, gave the kids some time to follow, then turned around to signal the end of the class.

Watching the group of sweaty, exhausted adolescents file out of the gym shuffling their feet, some of them already gossiping and giggling and arranging to catch each other online, he strolled over to the bench where he'd left his towel and wiped his face and neck.

He was feeling pretty damn pleased with himself. Might even go downtown for a takeaway lunch, he mused – he really couldn't be bothered to cook today – and then drive to the park to consume it there, the weather still being good enough for outdoor relaxation. It was probably wise to take advantage of that before November unleashed its torrent of rain and wind on the state. Fall had been spoiling them so far with surprisingly little rain and copious amounts of sunshine, turning the forests surrounding Summerfield into a splash of vivid color and making Jee wish he'd taken up residence somewhere out of town – driving an extra half hour to school and back every day, even on dirt roads, seemed like a good trade-off if he were to travel through natural corridors of magnificent red, yellow and orange, reflected spectacularly in the little ponds and lakes Michigan was notorious for. The awe-inspiring countryside in its fleeting, fall-triggered splendor was almost enough to make even a grumpy old cynic like Jee feel good about the world.

The park it would be, then. And maybe its atmosphere would help him get a solid plan together for his first private lesson with Zuko – which, after all, was to take place tomorrow.

Jee was a little surprised to realize he was looking forward to it already. Maybe his newfound optimism from their Monday confrontation was clouding his judgment, but he hadn't had a halfway decent sparring partner in what felt like decades and whatever could be said about Zuko, the boy had some skill. As long as he wasn't in one of his more bratty moods, it could turn into a really interesting and rewarding afternoon.

And maybe even the 'no bratty moods' condition was too much to hope for – it was _Zuko_, after all – but the kid had been acting relatively normal and not drawing any attention to himself in class both today and yesterday, so maybe not. Maybe they were both equally eager to make amends. Jee would enjoy it while it lasted.

So it was in a pretty good mood that he exited the Flowing Creek High School building that day.

Which lasted right until several seconds later, when he heard a woman's gruff, gravelly voice call out after him just as he was about to unlock his car:

"Lieutenant Jee Heng?"

The tone immediately made him think 'high-ranking officer' even before he turned around to face its owner – it was obvious this voice was accustomed to barking out orders on daily basis and, more importantly, having those orders obeyed. Jee'd heard enough of such voices in his life to create a special mental group for them – hell, he used it himself.

This alone spelled trouble, and when Jee's eyes fell on the woman marching briskly up to him, trouble became a whole fucking huge-ass neon.

Impossible, his mind screamed in a flash of cold, irrational panic. It was absolutely fucking impossible the police were on him so soon. Shit, he hadn't even _done _anything yet! Nor was he ever going to! They couldn't arrest him, they had nothing on him, no one could prove that the kiss happened unless Zuko actually did report him, but he wouldn't…

… Would he?

All of this passed through his mind in a blinding flash, the shock and guilt disabling his rational thinking for about half a second – but thankfully he got a grip on himself before his face gave away anything potentially incriminating.

Easy now. It _was_ impossible that this fierce-looking, gray-haired woman clad in police uniform, seeming more or less his age and with a couple of formidable-looking scars on her cheek, was here because of Zuko. And even if she was and the kid _did_ report him – or even if he simply let something slip to his uncle and then the old man notified the authorities – he would deal with it like a man. He _could _deal with it. There was absolutely no reason to panic, and no reason at all for behaving like a culprit.

So Jee stood up straight, raising his head high, and schooled his features into a neutral expression of mild interest that used to be his default face for dealing with his superiors back in the Navy, relying on long years of experience in feigning innocence and dealing with idiotic commanders he'd much rather punch in the face than report to.

"Yes," he replied, his voice calm – maybe a bit too calm to sound natural, damn it – and rested his elbow on the roof of his old car, looking straight into the police officer's eyes. "How can I help you, officer?"

She stopped a couple of steps' distance from him, arms on her hips, her assured posture and the hard, set lines on her face screaming authority. Jee was impressed. Many of the officers he'd served under couldn't be this intimidating just by standing still, not without trying very hard, whereas this woman looked as if she hadn't been doing anything else since the day she came into this world. She seemed the kind of person who, to all intents and purposes, wasn't born the normal way but sprang directly from a rock.

"Lin Bei Fong, Chief of Police," she introduced herself after a beat, offering Jee her hand.

The lieutenant took it and shook heartily, not bothering to be gentle, which seemed to earn her silent approval – the lines on her face smoothened somewhat, even if only for a flash of second. Then she was back into intimidation mode.

"Let me get straight to the point, Lieutenant," she offered, her manner no-bullshit all over. "I respect your time enough not to waste it on pointless small talk."

"I appreciate that, Chief." Jee couldn't help the hint of a smirk from creeping onto his face. About to be arrested or not, he couldn't help but instantly respect this woman. It was instinct.

"As I understand it, you run a martial arts club here Thursdays after class," said Chief Bei Fong, her eyes on him hard and scrutinizing, giving nothing away but what Jee guessed to be habitual annoyance.

"Good to see the town's intelligence department operates flawlessly," he replied with a smile.

The Chief shot him a glare.

"It does. You'd be surprised, Lieutenant."

Jee had enough common sense to recognize the not-so-thinly-veiled threat and shut up. He still had no idea what this iron lady wanted from him in the first place and it was perhaps a good idea not to antagonize Summerfield's authorities so soon after their first introductions. Especially not with his track record.

"Anyway," picked up the chief after a meaningful pause, apparently satisfied her words had had the desired effect, "what I want to know is, is it for the students of Flowing Creek exclusively or would you be willing to accept an outsider?"

Oh?

Bit by bit, relief crept back into Jee, calming his racing thoughts somewhat and relaxing the tension in his muscles. So it wasn't about Zuko after all, nor about anything else he might have done. Good. Good. It seemed he was safe again…

But on the other hand, one never knew for sure when dealing with the law enforcement. There may be a trap in this yet.

"We haven't had any students outside the school apply," he replied cautiously. "I would have to take this up with Headmaster Pakku. Is there a problem, Chief?"

"No. At ease, Lieutenant." Though the way the Chief said it seemed to imply an unspoken _yet_. Or maybe that was simply her default way of communicating with everyone; Jee had known a couple of policemen in his time and all of them seemed to believe they were _constantly_ on duty, even sitting in a pub among their pals. The way they saw it, _everyone_ was guilty of _something_. He could bet his left hand this Bei Fong woman was of the same breed. Which was why her next admission came as a bit of a surprise:

"I am here in… private capacity."

Jee arched an eyebrow at her, waiting and trying not to let his guard down entirely just yet.

Chief Bei Fong waited for another beat, her brow creased in a frown, before she continued:

"I would be much obliged if you could admit an extra student to your Thursday classes," she announced, and though the words were polite enough, her tone made it sound as if she were issuing an order. "My niece. She is a homeschooled freshman."

Jee frowned. Right, it really did not seem like he was in any trouble, but then again, the request was pretty bizarre.

"Like I said," he started, "I would have to talk to the headmaster first, but I'm sure there should be no problem if –"

"She's blind."

That shut Jee up again.

"And for this reason," the woman continued, gazing sternly at Jee, "her parents are not exactly happy with her taking martial arts lessons, even though she is exceptionally gifted. Which is why I would _appreciate it greatly_ if you did not, in fact, consult the headmaster about it."

"Wait. Do you expect me to tutor her… in secret?"

"In a word, yes."

If Jee were to frown any deeper, he would have gotten prominent lines etched into his forehead for the rest of his life. Chief Bei Fong must have predicted his growing reluctance, though, and prepared accordingly.

"You would have my gratitude." The way she said it – slowly, in a low voice – implied that he could very much need it, though, again, that was how she probably sounded all the time. "Oh come now, Lieutenant," she huffed with growing exasperation as Jee let the silence between them stretch, too confused to speak. "I looked through your records. Don't pull that face on me, I wouldn't leave my niece under the care of a man I didn't thoroughly examine first. I _know_ that doing things by the book is not exactly your forte. The thing with Toph's parents is, they're paranoid. They want to keep her locked up, probably for the rest of her life, and they don't understand a damned thing about the girl. As luck would have it, the family is living close to Summerfield for the moment which makes it possible for me to smuggle her out every once in a while. It's impossible to do so on Mondays, which is why I came to you, not your colleague. I observed your classes today and I think you will do."

"I will do," repeated Jee hollowly and wondered briefly whether he should take offense.

The Chief looked him over once, critically, and nodded, a dry smirk gracing her features.

"Yes. You like adventures, Lieutenant. And while I don't normally condone any bending of rules, I am prepared to go to significant lengths to make sure poor Toph has her share or normal living. I know you can be persuaded to turn a blind eye to help a little girl. And believe me when I say Toph will be a great asset to your classes."

Jee considered his options.

On the one hand, he could get in really serious trouble with a clearly obsessive – and potentially influential – family, and God knew he already had enough on his plate with the offspring of _one_ set of bigshots. On the other, though, he would have the Chief herself on his side if anything happened… Or would he?

"Can I trust you to take the blame if her parents want to file a suit against me for kidnapping?"

It was now Chief Bei Fong's turn to demonstrate she had also perfected the difficult and highly impressive art of raising a single eyebrow.

"Can it be that you're afraid, Lieutenant?"

Jee replied with a dry smirk.

"No, Chief. I am merely being cautious. I'm sure you can see why, since you bothered to peruse my records so diligently."

"If my brother ever catches wind of this," stated the woman firmly, "I will admit to being the one with the initiative and you being nothing but the instrument. Does that satisfy you?"

"Yes, if you can give me that in writing."

She seemed to approve; her smirk widened a fraction.

"You shall receive it tomorrow. Do I take it we have an agreement?"

Jee smiled. The Chief of police in Summerfield would owe him a favor. As far as backdoor deals went, this one wasn't bad at all.

"Bring the little lady tomorrow, Chief," he replied. "Let's give her space to make up her own mind whether or not she even wants to continue."

"Sounds reasonable. Thank you for your time, Lieutenant."

"The pleasure is all mine."

The Chief, however, did not stick around long enough to receive the end of this sentence – her business taken care of, she promptly marched off in the direction of a blue police Dodge, her manner brisk and sharply to-the-point down to the decisive hit of her low-heeled boots against the pavement; probably on to a very important mission she put in potential jeopardy just to talk to Jee.

The lieutenant watched her go and wondered, frowning, whether he'd just made his already pretty bad situation infinitely worse.

oooOooo

True to her word, the Chief did drive her niece over – perfectly in time with the final minutes of sixth period. Jee didn't even make it out of the gym before she blocked his way stepping through the open doorway, hands folded across her chest, expression sour as ever, uniform sharp and immaculate.

Jee wondered if she'd timed it precisely so as to deprive him of his already too-short break.

He forced a polite smile onto his face in greeting and only then noticed the smaller, almost petite figure sliding into view next to the police Chief. The niece, presumably.

The blind niece he was supposed to secretly teach how to fight.

As before, Lin Bei Fong did not waste any time but proceeded straight to the introductions, putting a hand on the little girl's shoulder.

"My niece, Toph Bei Fong," she announced; Jee did not miss the way her eyes narrowed at him in scrutiny. She was probably gauging out his reaction to the girl. One final test.

Jee took a good look at her ward, still smiling – it didn't matter that the girl couldn't see it, as her unfocused, milky gaze indicated. She could probably hear it in his voice and besides, her aunt was watching Jee like a hawk, eager to jump at the slightest slip-up.

"Hello, miss," he said amiably. "I am Lieutenant Jee Heng, though your excellent aunt has probably told you that already. Ready to kick some butts?"

Which was when he received his first shock of the day: the grin which spread over Toph's features at his words looked positively _feral_. Jee felt himself stare. It was an expression one would sooner expect to see on the Cheshire Cat than on a sweet, young face such as hers.

"Like hell I am," she replied, her voice undeniably enthusiastic and strangely foreboding at the same time.

Jee gave her another once-over, more piercing this time. Seemed there was more to this little one than met the eye.

"Good," he nodded. "There will be no slacking off here. If you're not a sweaty mess ten minutes into the warm-up it means you're not trying hard enough. That is…" Jee had to cut off here, suddenly feeling awkward; crap, how would she even follow the warm-up if she couldn't see what he was demonstrating? How would she repeat any of the exercises, for that matter?

Toph, however, seemed to have mysteriously caught on to his sudden discomfort.

"Just shout out the instructions," she said dismissively. "I know what's what. Unless what you do here is something artsy and innovative, but Auntie Lin tells me it isn't."

"No, it isn't," Jee agreed gratefully. That had been a close one. He really should have given this whole thing more thought before he came to work today, but Zuko's first private training session had been on the forefront of his mind all of last evening.

He decided to intercept Katara before the start of the DDC meeting and ask her to look after Toph during class. The girl had already proven herself to be among the more responsible members of the group and she was subtle to boot – Jee hoped he could rely on her to pay attention to what this tiny, cheeky one was doing and gently correct anything that needed correcting.

"And is your charming aunt going to stay here and watch the lesson?" he asked, glancing up at the Chief.

She wasn't amused. "Don't you try to sweet-talk me, mister," she grumbled. "I'm working. Toph can look after herself just fine. But if something happens to her during your shift, you'd better leave the country altogether because I'll come after your sorry Navy ass like a fucking pissed-off Valkiria, only without the singing. Oh, and here," she rummaged in the inner pocket of her uniform jacket, "is the protection shield you requested."

She handed him a written statement, which Jee treated to a quick once-over. Everything seemed to be in order, the terms spelled out exactly as they agreed yesterday. Bei Fong even bothered to stamp it with the seal of her office.

Yep. It should do.

"Satisfied?" asked the woman dryly, one of her eyebrows going up.

"Completely," Jee smiled at her, if only out of a sudden, schoolboyish need to tease. "Thank you, Chief."

"Yeah, yeah," she waved at him dismissively. "I'm off. Toph, try not to kill anyone while I'm gone. Would be messy to cover it up."

"Sure thing, Auntie," the little girl smirked at her aunt, who smirked at her in return and gave her hair a ruffle before she marched off, giving Jee one last glance of warning over her shoulder.

The lieutenant inclined his head after her, folding the document and shoving it into the zipper pocket of his tracksuit. He would treat it with the respect it deserved later, when he was back in his own apartment and had access to proper folders.

"Is this about my parents?" inquired Toph, crossing her arms over her small chest. "What she gave you just now?"

"Yes." There seemed to be no reason to hide things from her – for a child her age, she looked exceptionally intelligent.

She nodded as though she'd been expecting this. "Smart of you to think of that," she said matter-of-factly. "If my folks ever find out I've been here, they'll go nuts."

"Overprotective, are they?"

Toph snorted. "You have _no idea_. They think a blind, _helpless_ little girl cannot handle this big, scary world." Suddenly, she looked up at the general area where she probably guessed Jee to be. "I hope you don't think so, too," she threatened. "I can kick ass just as well as anyone else. _Better_."

"I believe you," Jee replied calmly – and, strangely enough, found that he meant it. Already, after only a few minutes of talking to her, he could see the inner strength and defiance in the kid – it was practically oozing out of her lithe form, much like it was oozing from her aunt. That was when Jee first wondered, not for the last time, how anyone who knew her better could ever think of her as helpless. It was now laughably easy to deduce she and Lin Bei Fong were closely related.

In short, Jee was impressed. And the feeling only grew when he led Toph in the direction of the girls' locker room so she could change – unprompted, the girl used the short time to brief him on all the techniques she was good at, casually displaying knowledge so detailed and thorough that it was obvious she had been at it for a long time.

"The tutors Aunt Lin smuggled in for me had to do a lot of physical leading at first," she was saying, her tone flippant and easy, "but I caught on quickly. I learned to rely on my other senses more. Did you know it's pretty easy to predict the moves of a seeing opponent after only one round? They make little telltale noises all the time. And the air changes in a particular way. They just don't notice."

"No, I did not know that."

"That's because you see the normal way. Don't worry about me, old man. I can keep up just fine. Only don't tell the others. It's always fun to watch people catch on."

Jee believed all this with no trouble by now.

He left her by the girls' locker room to make her introductions on her own – him entering a room full of changing teenage girls wouldn't be considered appropriate – and returned to the gym, stopping by the office to get his notes. As luck would have it, Katara passed him on her way to change, so he stopped her quickly and briefed her on the situation. Just as expected, the girl immediately jumped at the opportunity to help, earning herself a prominent place on Jee's short Uncommonly Decent People I've Met list. Now he could only hope the girls would get along.

He made Toph's introductions to the entire group brief, avoiding a fuss, and started off with the warm-up immediately, cutting short all possible gossip on the topic; but not without noting how Zuko's eyes widened in surprise at hearing his new clubmate's name. He would have to file this away for further analysis.

That day they practiced dodging and blocking, which always made for an amusing class. Jee chose Korra to be his demonstration partner for the first set of moves and wasn't surprised when, after the demonstrative round, the girl made her way directly to Zuko. The two of them paired off together for exercises almost regularly and it looked like this had been going on for a while. Sometimes they acted very hostile about it, especially when Zuko was in one of his more _intense_ moods which never failed to bring out Korra's teasing, mocking side; but underneath it all, Jee suspected that they simply appreciated the skill of the other and regarded them as a worthy opponent. Not that they were the only ones in the club representing a higher level – no, most of the kids who had signed up were sufficiently advanced and could hold their own against either Korra or Zuko – but Jee supposed that the reason they were so fond of sparring with each other were their similar temperaments and attitudes to fighting. While being undeniably better-adjusted and socially adept, Korra sometimes displayed levels of larger-than-life intensity and fiery determination worthy of Zuko's and these came out especially in the sparring ring. For all her mocking of the Xi boy – which, Jee was increasingly convinced, only served as bait so that he would unleash his torrent of fury on her when they fought – she obviously appreciated and enjoyed the challenge he represented and, as far as Jee could tell, the feeling was mutual.

The only problem was, both of them had alarmingly short fuses and there had been days when, driven by adrenaline and equally strong competitive spirit, the two of them took things further than Jee instructed, spontaneously erupting into full-blown duels. Those never failed to delight at least half of the club members, who would then take to cheering until Jee broke it up.

The last time it happened, the lieutenant was half-tempted to let them beat each other up until one emerged the obvious winner. But then the other would want a rematch, so it really wouldn't have been productive in the long run, no matter how much he may have been curious to see the final outcome. Besides, considering how evenly matched the two of them were, both in skill and in their stubborn refusal to give in, it could take forever.

Today, however, Zuko seemed much more cooperative than usual – in fact, if Jee was any judge, the kid gave off tiny signs that he was actually _excited_. He replied to Korra's usual baiting with a few sarcastic remarks of his own and once they started practicing, he seemed so energetic and unusually light on his feet as though he were not fighting, but _playing_.

Jee tried not to read too much into it, but he couldn't help a smile and the warm glow of pride in his chest. The shadow of the optimism he'd felt on Monday returned, leaving him with a pleasant tingle of anticipation. To know that Zuko was looking forward to their private sparring as much as Jee was made all the difference.

But there was still the rest of the class to teach before that, and one new lady in particular who may require his assistance. Tearing his eyes away from a smirking Zuko easily dodging Korra's roundhouse kick, he sought out Toph.

Who, as it turned out, was currently busy wiping the floor with Bolin.

"Get up, Bo!" Sokka cheered his friend on, leering with obvious amusement. "Can't let a _little girl_ kick your butt this easy." For which Katara, standing next to him, smacked him over the head.

"Watch out or you're gonna be next, Loudmouth." Toph rested her hands on her hips. "Ready for another go, Big Guy? Come on, I'll go easy on you this time."

Bolin, his face all red from mortification, got on his feet again and dusted himself off, clearly trying to save face by acting nonchalant about the whole thing. "Of course, it was me who went easy on you," he clarified with a strained smile.

The expression on Toph's face was positively terrifying. "Of course," she mouthed. "Get over here then and show me what you can _really_ do. Or are you afraid to hit a little blind girl?"

Jee decided it was time to bring his voice of authority to the table before anyone got hurt – and he had a sneaky feeling it wouldn't be Toph.

"Only dodging and blocking, remember," he reminded them sternly; the reprimand in his voice seemed to help Bolin cool off a little. "And you," Jee turned to Sokka, Katara, Aang and Suki, who had been standing idly by and watching the unusual scene, "get back to work."

"Sure thing, sir," replied Bolin, the lightness in his voice obviously fake. "Ok, Toph, try to block me now and then I'll try to block you…"

He shifted on his feet, then delivered a swift, strong punch to the right – which Toph, smirking, easily ducked under. Then, dizzyingly fast, she promptly got in Bolin's personal space and hit him square in the sternum, sending him down to the floor again.

Snickering and chuckling broke out all around them. Jee was sorely tempted to join in, but he had to make do with a smirk and swept his gaze over the group, bringing them back to order. Toph crossed her hands over her chest again, grinning like a tiny, deadly shark.

"What was that you said about going easy on me?" she gloated as Bolin tried to regain what was left of his dignity. "Come on, Big Boy, you can say it."

Bolin sighed, getting to his feet again. "Okay, okay," he admitted. "You're awesome."

"And?" prompted Toph unabashedly.

"And badass."

"Awesome and badass. Don't you ever forget that."

Jee decided it was his cue to step in.

"I see it's time for a partner swap," he ordered. "Aang! I know it's heartbreaking to let Katara practice with someone else for a while, but try to get over it for five minutes and come here to see if you can deal with Toph here."

"Beware," mutterred Bolin ominously on his way to Katara. "She's a deeeeemon."

The tattooed exchange students laughed at that, beamed at Jee with a chirpy "Yes, sir!" and jumped over to Toph. "Hi! I'm Aang. Great to have you here," he exclaimed with a disarming smile which, unfortunately, was lost on his new friend.

Toph rose a skeptical eyebrow at him. "Whatever," she murmured. "Show me what you got, Cheery."

Predictably, she let Aang attack first and dodged, but when she tried to land a hit on the bald kid in exchange, he swiveled gracefully to the side. Toph frowned at that and tried to deliver a punch again, after waiting and listening intently first, but Aang ducked under her fist this time as well, smiling slightly.

Jee nodded in satisfaction. This was exactly what he hoped for. He had noticed earlier that Aang's favorite method of fighting was keeping out of the way or even getting behind his opponent so that it was impossible to land a hit on him – almost like a dancer, he used the lightness of his feet and his incredible reflexes to always be inches away from where his opponent wanted him to be. This trend, and especially the getting-behind thing, tended to infuriate some of the more offense-oriented club members and push them into angry, uncontrolled attacks, which was when Aang used a couple of quick jabs to take them out, mostly using their own force against them. It was an impressive technique to be sure, and undeniably effective, though Jee took care never to pit the monk against Zuko for fear that the smaller guy might not make it out of the scuffle alive. But it was precisely why the lieutenant thought Aang would do well against Toph, who obviously depended on her opponent's underestimating her and charging mindlessly.

It would be good practice for both of them. Jee stood by and watched the two kids for another while, observing with satisfaction how, already, they were trying to adjust to each other and learning from the other's technique – Toph obviously exasperated and baiting Aang to behave more aggressively, to no avail – before he moved on to other pairs. These two would be alright.

By the time the class ended, Toph Bei Fong was already an obvious favorite of the group and rightfully earned herself a brand new circle of ardent admirers. Jee smiled when he saw Katara, Aang, Sokka and Suki approach her and invite her to go out to dinner with them. He found himself hoping that the girl would be able to steal some more time away from home to join them – she was probably the most impressive person he'd met in a while and definitely deserved all the praise and goodwill that surrounded her.

"Before I let you lot scram," Jee said loudly, once again catching the group's attention, "I have a small announcement." He sought out Zuko in the crowd of students, sent him a confidential little smile and once again addressed the entire club: "It has been brought to my attention that some of you might compete in the national martial arts championships. I already know of one student who will be competing and I offered him some time for private training sessions. This offer is open to any of you. If you're interested, come up to me now or e-mail me or let me know some other way and I'm sure we'll be able to arrange something. Now off you go."

A few of the faces looked thoughtful, he noticed, but in the end, no one did stay behind to ask for private training with him – which, if Jee were to be honest with himself, brought him a bit of relief. He might still get a few requests later on as the kids made up their mind, though, and he would have no choice but to make good on his word, but such was the cost of sticking to impartiality. He meant what he said to Zuko about no favoritism and was adamant to stick to it – he couldn't let it show that he favored the brat in any way. And not only as a means for precaution.

He absolutely fucking hated favoritism and did _not_ want to become that kind of teacher. If Zuko got private time with him, it was only fair to offer the same opportunity to others and that was that.

And speaking of Zuko…

The kid stayed behind, of course, and was currently busy taking huge gulps out of a water bottle he had brought with him into the gym. Korra lingered behind to give him a questioning look – he shrugged and muttered something non-committal, to which she smirked and shook her head.

"If you manage to spend five minutes alone with this guy without killing him, sir, you have my deepest respect," she called out to Jee before running up to a waiting Bolin.

Zuko glared after her, but did not comment.

Toph was already gone, probably changing in the locker room, but a familiar, uniformed figure waiting by the open doors, leaning on the frame and gazing at Jee expectantly, told him that his adventure with the Bei Fong ladies was quite not over yet.

"Take a moment to rest," he told Zuko, passing him on his way to the police Chief. "I'll be with you in a sec."

"Your niece," he started before the woman even had a chance to open her mouth, "is incredible."

This pleased her, as far as Jee was able to tell – for a split of second, she did not seem disapproving of the entire world around her. "So she is," she admitted with just the tiniest detectable trace of fondness. "I take it you have no objections to her continuing with your classes."

"None at all. As long as that's what she wants."

"We'll learn that in a minute, Lieutenant."

She was right. In no time at all Toph was with them, changed from a tank-top and leggings into her daily green hoodie and jeans, making her way over with the help of Katara. Her older companion smiled politely at the Chief and took a few respectful steps backwards, waiting for the rest of her group and obviously trying not to appear like an eavesdropper.

"Well?" Lin asked the girl, arching an expectant eyebrow which Toph couldn't see but seemed to have sensed anyway.

She grinned. "Next week. Can we make it?"

Jee was busy smiling at her, so he didn't entirely catch the expression of appreciation and gratitude which Toph's aunt flashed him – he only spotted a shadow of it as the woman's gaze returned to her ward.

"We'll see," she conceded, which seemed to be some sort of code, because Toph's smile only grew.

"Oh, and one more thing," said the girl. "Those guys," she indicated with her thumb the general direction where Katara was waiting, "are now my fans or something. They want to hang out and bask in my glory. Think I can go?"

She tried to act nonchalant and indifferent about it, but it was clear from the inflection of the last word and the way she seemed to tense all over waiting for a reply how much she really wanted to go. Jee glanced to the Chief – she was frowning, her eyebrow creased, her expression conflicted.

"You know we can't risk your parents finding out you haven't been with me the entire time," she said slowly; and it was heartbreaking, it really was, the way Toph hung her head and seemed to have shrank a few inches.

Lin saw it, too, and sighed deeply, scrunching her eyes shut and massaging her temple with one hand. Jee thought he caught her murmured "Fuck," but couldn't be sure, it was so soft. "Fine," she said finally, as if against her better judgment. "But don't take too long. And let me know when you're done so I can pick you up, or have those guys drive you over to the station. Got it?"

Toph's happy grin could have outshone the sun.

"Glad to have you join," said Jee, making his presence known. "Make sure to keep up with the good work next week."

"Sure thing, sir Old Man." Which was when Toph _punched him in the arm_. Surprisingly hard, too, though it was probably the shock of her doing it at all that made Jee sway a little. "It was fun," she stated. Then, she turned around and called out to Katara's group: "Okay guys, whatever, I guess I can come with you if you want me so badly!"

In no time at all, she was whisked away by the cheerful group in the direction of the parking lot; their laughter could still be heard a long time after they left the gym area.

Lin watched them go with a fondness that was probably as alien on her face as rage on Aang's, but she went immediately back to her Rough Police Chief mode as soon as she sensed Jee's amused eyes watching her.

"Thanks," she muttered, almost grudgingly, but did send him a flicker of a smirk before she turned around and marched out of the sports wing to her car.

Jee inclined his head after her respectfully. He understood. No other words were necessary here.

Right. Right…

Feeling almost absurdly satisfied and – not _chirpy_, dammit, never in his life had he been chirpy and he was going to stick to this record – Jee turned briskly on his heel and marched back into the gym.

His evening was not over yet.

Zuko was waiting for him. Jee wasn't really surprised to see him sitting on the floor and stretching; normal kids would have used the short break to rest, but Zuko had long since established he did not count among this group. Jee smiled briefly at the sight before he approached him and took a swig out of his own water bottle.

The gym had no windows save for a few narrow ones high up by the ceiling, but even without the view of the darkness outside, the evening seeped into the spacious hall and tinted the whole scene with an informal, relaxed atmosphere all cameral, evening sessions carried, with traces of physical exhaustion floating in the air and a silence which seemed cozy and familiar. Jee and Zuko were the only two people in this makeshift dojo now and had it to themselves for basically however long they wanted – the lieutenant checked to make sure no clubs met here on Thursdays after theirs. Somewhere in the distance, in other parts of the sports wing, the basketball training was in mid-session, the sounds of balls hitting the ground, shouts and whistles faint and muffled; splashing and more whistling from the swimming pool indicated the students there were well into their own training; the occasional chanting in the rehearsal room nearby told Jee that Ming was whipping her own girls into shape. Somehow, all those noises surrounding them only contributed to the feeling of isolation in the dojo; and once again, much like he had on the football field, Jee felt that, in a strange way, this space had suddenly transformed into their own, private sphere.

It was a pleasant feeling and strangely comfortable, which Jee was grateful for. He could only hope Zuko would feel it, too.

"Ready?" He asked the boy once he was done drinking; Zuko smirked at him from the floor and gave his legs one final stretch before swiftly getting to his feet.

"Right." Jee turned his head this way and that to relax his neck muscles. "You stand over there. We'll have a few rounds of sparring. I want you to pretend this is a tournament. All the normal rules apply." He picked up his water bottle, his bag, his tracksuit jacket and his car keys, then used them to mark a square on the mats. "That's our ring," he explained. "I gather you've been in enough tournaments to know when a round ends?"

Jee had not competed in one his entire life, but he'd trained with people who had and he'd been in enough mock fights and seen enough tournaments to learn the usual rules.

"Yeah," Zuko nodded, running a hand through his hair. Jee briefly debated whether or not to suggest that he invest in a headband to keep it out of his eyes.

"Okay," he said instead, easily sliding into a fighting stance. "Bring it, kid."

Zuko's eyes narrowed dangerously as he rasped out: "I'm not a kid."

Then, he charged.

Jee had observed him enough to predict the possible lines of attack Xi was likely to take, but he was still slightly startled at the speed and swiftness of Zuko's assault – the lieutenant sort of expected them to circle each other a bit first, to test the waters. But it seemed Zuko did not believe in half-measures; he launched himself straight into the offensive, delivering a precise, swift kick which Jee blocked with his fist not a moment too soon. This did not discourage the kid, who pressed on with a sequence of jabs and kicks, obviously trying to keep Jee in the defensive. The lieutenant decided to indulge him – he kept blocking, keeping Zuko from landing a decisive hit, budging just enough not to cross his makeshift ring markers, and let the boy wear himself out as he observed.

Most of the characteristic elements of Zuko's style he had already learned were in ample evidence: good speed, solid technique, admirable reflexes, impressive strength, extraordinary drive and flat-out uncommon endurance. Those things usually allowed the kid to outdo most of his peers. But against an old, seasoned fighter like Jee, other elements came to the surface – like the way Zuko tended to bet everything on the first few minutes, throwing all that he had into them without bothering to pace himself to last longer. Or a certain sloppiness creeping into his attacks the longer he fought. Or the way he seemed to sacrifice control for the sake of pressing on no matter what, thus losing focus and letting himself get carried away too easily. Or the way he did not think ahead and try to feel his opponent, relying on instinct and the heat of the moment rather than on strategy.

Which was, indeed, typical Zuko and really, Jee should have predicted all those things based on the kid's impulsive personality alone. But at least he now had a very firm idea of what they should work on.

Satisfied with his observations, Jee decided it was now his priority to lay them out for Zuko too. He focused on the kid's heated attacks, which had by now gotten rather chaotic, found a crack in his offence and struck out, cool and precise, hitting the boy's stomach.

Zuko groaned and doubled over, stumbling backwards; when he looked up at Jee again, his eyes shone with shock and some very familiar, building fury. The lieutenant nodded at him, getting into a stance again.

"The first round goes to me," he said a bit unnecessarily, but not without a sprinkling of grim satisfaction. "Again."

The kid didn't need to be told twice – drawing on reserves of strength that came from Jee had no idea where, in he launched himself again, repeating his previous strategy, only with double the fury. Jee didn't let him play this time and cut the heated assault short with a precise kick to the kid's right shin, just as Zuko was raising his leg into a kick of his own.

"How did you do that?" sputtered Zuko breathlessly once he recovered.

Jee smirked at him.

"I used my brain," he explained laconically. "Draw your own conclusions. Again."

Zuko sneered at him, baring his sharp white teeth, and this time he waited a beat before jumping into the offense, his breathing heavy, the sweat breaking out on his face and neck and trickling down his torso, his sleeveless shirt wet and clinging to his body. Jee permitted himself a short moment to appreciate the view before he disciplined his mind to focus back on the action; but he couldn't be bothered to muster a whiff of guilt about it this time, maybe because it was firmly established that he would not act on it and, for once, Zuko was not trying to encourage him.

He was too busy working himself up into a rage.

It lasted longer this time – Jee missed the kid twice, and the third time he tried to knock Zuko out, Xi threw himself to the ground in a duck and, spinning on his hands, did a grand sweep with his legs break-dance style, apparently trying to make the older man lose his balance. It was a really impressive move and Jee found himself temporarily distracted, but then he saw an opening as Zuko jumped to his feet again and he took it, sending the boy back to the ground and out of the "ring".

Three times seemed enough of a demonstration. Before Zuko could attack him again, Jee put up a hand in the universal halt gesture and reached out to help his student up as a peace offering.

He shouldn't have been surprised when Zuko refused to take it and got to his feet on his own, quite violently at that – really, this civil rapport between them was too good to last and obviously Xi's ego had just been quite severely wounded. But Jee could not deny the spark of irritation he felt at the boy's reaction, even as he motioned for the bench and sat down without glancing to see if Zuko followed.

"I want to go again!"

"No," Jee ignored the angry outburst and the furious panting, calmly taking a seat to show how much he was not intimidated. "That's enough. I already know what I wanted to know."

"I want a rematch! I can beat you this time!"

"Maybe later. For now, you sit. And listen."

For a second, the Xi brat looked as though he wanted to bite Jee's head off.

It was okay, the man told himself. Zuko's pride and ego had taken a serious blow, which was a huge deal when one was seventeen. If he needed to shout and kick something for a bit, he could. And then they would go back to the teaching part of the evening, something they were here for in the first place.

"Have a drink," Jee offered his student the water bottle.

Instead of accepting it, Zuko folded his legs stiffly under him and sat across from Jee cross-legged, head bowed, eyes hidden by his hair. His entire posture almost shook with how pissed he was.

Jee stifled a sigh. Patience, patience. Let the brat stew for a moment in peace if he felt so inclined. There was obviously a lot of ire to gulp down over there.

He took a deep gulp himself, ignoring the simmering centre of silence across from him, and waited. It took Zuko a minute or so to get over himself and calm down enough to speak without snarling, but even when he did, he didn't raise his head to look at Jee:

"Alright, what did I do wrong?"

Jee toyed with the bottle, throwing it from one hand to the other. "Well," he started softly, "what do you _think_ you did wrong?"

Zuko looked at him then alright, though "glared" was much more adequate a term to describe it.

"You're supposed to be teaching me, not the other way around," he snapped.

"Let's start with something else then," Jee resumed amiably, ignoring the outburst. "Why did I win? Think about it."

Zuko's only response was to turn the glare up a couple notches.

Jee shrugged to show much he was not impressed by that and continued: "Did you learn anything about my technique?"

"Yeah, that you wait a lot," scoffed the brat disdainfully.

Jee smiled at him. Now they were getting somewhere.

"Exactly. And why do you think that is?"

"Because you're an old man and don't have the energy anymore?"

"Oh hardy har har, watch me double over and die from laughing so hard," Jee deadpanned in response, rising an eyebrow. "Try to use your brain this time. It's not that difficult."

Zuko glared at him some more, probably out of pure brattish defiance, but then – lo, success! – his brow furrowed in actual thought. Jee was pleased to see this development and smiled in encouragement, waiting.

"This is going to be about thinking ahead, isn't it," sighed the kid eventually, hunching forward in a very resigned manner.

So he'd had this kind of talk before and it obviously didn't stick. Which didn't bode well for Jee, but at least the brat had some inkling as to what the problem was.

"Yes," Jee nodded. "Which is something you don't do. You charge right ahead without thinking. You don't pace yourself. You don't use strategies. And, most importantly, you don't _observe_."

Zuko looked at him in sullen silence, his lips forming into a pout, his eyes stormy and defiant. The sight was so hilarious that, for a moment, it was all Jee could do not to laugh.

Yep. The pout was pretty damn adorable and smothered Jee's own irritation quite effectively. "Your technique is good," the man continued, feeling a new rush of goodwill towards the stormy cloud of wounded self-esteem that was Zuko. "You've got some very impressive moves and pretty good instincts. And you're very fast. Not to mention your endurance and drive. I know all of it has been enough to get you far in the competitions. Your uncle showed me the trophies."

"I figured he would," mumbled Zuko, lowering his eyes. "I heard you two talking outside my door."

Which immediately brought Jee's mind spiraling back to that night, to Zuko's bedroom, to the reddish half-light, to the smell of wine, to the warmth of the boy's body, to the taste of his frantic lips. He swallowed, feeling a flood of warmth pooling in his stomach, and took another swig from the bottle just to distract himself from the memories so they wouldn't creep into the moment and hang between them again like some invisible miasma – but from the hard lines of Zuko's tense body, he could venture a pretty good guess as to where the brat's mind was at the moment, too.

No matter. They would get over it eventually and move on. These things took time. As long as neither of them did anything to acknowledge slips like this one, it would be fine.

It was a relief to see that, for the time being, Zuko seemed to agree with him.

"I was very impressed by your collection," said Jee softly, trying to dispel the cloud of their shared memory for good. "But I hope you'll agree with me that it is no reason to stop trying to improve. You are a senior. My guess is, some very important scholarships hinge on this year's contest, am I right?"

Zuko looked up into his eyes again at that – and once more Jee found himself momentarily distracted, not by any hints of seductiveness in the boy's face this time, but by its sudden, grave seriousness. When Xi nodded, his lips forming a thin, hard line, the muscles on his face taut with tension, his eyes bright and unrelenting, he did not look like a teenager anymore – in this one moment, he looked like a samurai readying himself for battle.

"Care to share your plans with me?" Jee asked, his tone even softer; something in the intensity in Zuko's eyes tugged at him.

That gaze commanded respect. Jee had never seen a teenager look so _grown up_ before.

And then his thoughts flew back to the photos pinned to a corkboard, to the giant flame sprayed in black above Zuko's bed. Suddenly, he was dead sure that the championships had a lot to do with that; with the happy family building sandcastles on a beach.

"No," replied the boy curtly, the same intensity still gracing his features with a somberness that was disturbingly beyond his age. "But I want to learn from you."

Jee nodded, still strongly impressed by the inexplicable gravity of the moment, the meaning of which he couldn't quite grasp yet but which lay heavily between them nevertheless, almost as thickly as the memory of their kiss.

The lieutenant got to his feet again then, despite this heaviness, and walked over to Zuko decisively, not quite breaking the spell, but readjusting it so it would no longer overwhelm them. "We'll do a couple more rounds," he said, his tone loud and decisive once again; it didn't chase away the weight of the air, but it did change the atmosphere a bit, giving it a vibrant sort of energy that came with a solid purpose. "This time, we'll go slowly and I'll be giving you feedback in the meantime. We have a lot of work ahead of us. Deal?"

Zuko looked up at him, his gaze hard, his face the same mask of unshakable resolve. He nodded again, and when Jee held out a hand to help him up, the boy took it this time.

Jee smiled at him before retreating back to his side of the improvised sparring circle.

"Again."

* * *

**A/N 2**: A huge chunk of this chapter was brought to you by Squidcats, who gave me this idea for introducing not only Toph, but also Lin into the story (and I hope she likes how it turned out, even though I couldn't do the requested snark battles properly because I fail at snark). If the concept of Lin being Toph's aunt messes up your brain, I'm... sorry?

As usual, a huge thank you for everyone who reviewed. God loves you.

Next time: there's more alcohol, Jee hates on baseball and Zuko appears wearing nothing but a towel.


	13. Chapter 10: Games

**A/N**: Well hello there! An update! Bet you forgot all about this fic in the meantime. I have a lot of excuses for the long wait, but how about I simply skip them and go straight to the fic? That good? Good.

The wait for the next chapter will probably be about a month, too. Blame my Uni. The summer vacation of uninterrupted ficcing really is well and truly over...

If you're interested in my writing, I have an account on AO3 where I published a couple of Jeeko oneshots of a more, shall we say, bold nature that I haven't gotten around to posting here. There's going to be more up there soon-ish.

Also, I need to apologize to everyone who may feel offended about the depiction of Detroit in this chapter - sorry! I really did like that city, but I have a feeling Jee wouldn't.

And now for the chapter! Which isn't very exciting, to be honest. But it has a towel scene. So there's that.

* * *

Jee remembered Detroit as a messy place, strangely quiet on the surface for a town of its size, shrouded in myths and dark urban legends so heavily it seemed to embrace them and wear them like a cloak; decrepit and rather bleak, but with odd attempts to liven itself up visible here and there which only made the dim ruin left over from the sixties so much starker by contrast. From his one brief visit all those years ago, Jee got the vague impression that the city could not quite shake off its many phantoms – though not for lack of trying.

However, it seemed to manage to at least sweep them under a rug for Detroit Tigers baseball games; the noisy, overhyped crowd pouring out of the baseball park and into the city, rosy-cheeked and waving around absurd, huge-ass gloves, now trickled into the streets like water in a clogged drainpipe, filling the arteries of downtown with light, cheers, carelessly dropped litter and the honking of irritated drivers trying to metaphorically elbow their way into the traffic.

Safely tucked in the backseat of his friend Captain Matt Coulson's car, Jee took out a cigarette and lit it with the window open, enjoying a blissful moment of quiet after having to push and zigzag his way through a throng of emotional baseball enthusiasts, and looked up at the brilliantly lit skyscrapers.

Which were not getting any closer.

"Told you we should have left earlier," he murmured, letting out a puff of smoke out the window.

"Shut up, I'm trying not to murder people here," came the grumbled response from the driver's seat.

"And a fine job you're doing. At this rate we might just find a place to have a drink before dawn."

"Okay, that? Not helping."

"Reckon it would've been faster if we just went on foot?" Shun turned around in the passenger seat to grin at Jee.

"Sure," the lieutenant shrugged. "Or took the shuttle. But good old Captain here calls the shots."

Shun snickered. "Looks like someone is in a laid-back mood tonight."

"Guess I'm just recovering from hours of sitting comatose back there." Jee shifted and stuck his head out the window, silently reveling in the cold breeze. The nightly air felt surprisingly fresh and rejuvenating, or maybe it was just the fact that they were _finally_ out of the damned stadium where even the hot-dogs tasted like they had already been chewed and spit out by someone else, people had to scream themselves hoarse to be heard over the crowd and the benches seemed determined to leave lovely souvenirs from the game, mostly in the form of back pains.

"It wasn't that bad," grumbled Matt from the driver's seat.

"Maybe not compared to watching good old Zhao engaged any activity at all," retorted Jee. "You _know_ I don't like baseball. You should damn well appreciate that I sat through the whole thing without wringing any necks. At least _that_ would have been interesting," he added under his breath.

"Told you," Shun sent a toothy grin to their driver. "He's desperate for some good company."

"Desperate for a drink, more like. Could we just leave the car anywhere and find a pub on foot? Would be faster."

In the end, they decided to leave the car in the parking lot of the hotel they had checked in before the game, and even then it took them a considerable amount of time to force their way at a sluggish pace through post-game traffic, the hotel being located just outside the city centre. Downtown Detroit seemed to be positively tearing at the seams with activity that night, which should not be surprising given that the city's beloved pet champions had just won a game against the Chicago White Sox – jubilation sparkled in the air and left a fresh taste in its wake, lighting up the night not only with corporate electricity, but with communal, patriotic pride and excitement so thick it could be carved with a knife.

Jee couldn't care less. In his opinion, baseball was only marginally less boring than golf and when people at school asked him who was his Tiger, which seemed to be a secret code of initiation for every Michiganer, he merely remarked that he didn't much care for felines at all, thank you very much. The crowds in their incomprehensible frenzy sparked nothing in him but irritation.

He dearly hoped they would find a place where they played some other music apart from the damned baseball jingle. Being bored out of his skin for the entire game was enough, especially since the initial pleasure of watching a sport live and being a part of an excited crowd had worn off after about twenty minutes; after that, watching random audience members caught on camera on the giant screens had become the only entertainment of the evening, the game itself being predictably dull.

But Matt bought the tickets as a surprise as soon as they agreed to meet in Detroit and, well. All things considered, sitting in a boredom coma for a couple of hours and putting up with the noise in the stands was not such a big price to pay for seeing some old, familiar faces. Now that the worst part of his evening was over, Jee was looking forward to catching up on Navy gossip over beer and snatching back as much of his old life as he could.

The three men found a decent pub eventually, though further away from downtown than they meant to venture; everything in the heart of the city was already overflowing with adrenaline-drunk baseball fans eager to get drunk on something even more substantial. The bar Jee's little group landed in was a country place, apparently, with a live band making too much racket for civilized conversation to happen, but it served beer and fries and, most importantly, still had tables available, so it was good enough. A grumpy-looking middle-aged waitress led the men to a table mercifully far away from the band and, soon enough, Jee started to enjoy himself.

It didn't take them long to fall back into the old banter they used to share while Jee was still in the Navy, and the conversation flowed in this direction pretty swiftly after both Jee and Shun made it absolutely clear they were not particularly interested in discussing the game. Even Matt, whose love for baseball was equal only to Jee's dislike of it, conceded it would have been a waste of time, especially considering that they hadn't seen Jee in years – so, as a result, the lieutenant spent the next two very comfortable hours laughing at the most recent Navy anecdotes and secretly trying to shut down the old bitter heartache they evoked.

Well, he knew this would happen. His years spent on Navy ships may not have been all sunshine and roses, but he missed them anyway, probably more than he should; he was prepared to have those old wounds, if not reopened by this meeting, then at least throbbing with that annoying itch of a war injury never completely healed.

And he would be damned if he allowed this bile of bitterness cloud his long-awaited evening. He knew better now than to nurse old regrets. Live in the moment and all that motivational crap. There was no use in looking back in anger.

He did allow himself one little lapse, however, and asked, taking advantage of a temporary lull in conversation: "So, how's that Lowell kid?"

As if on cue, Matt and Shun exchanged understanding glances with each other, and Jee barely stifled a laugh when they both turned to him with nearly identical, soothing smiles.

"He's _fine_, Jee," said Shun, leaning forward over the table. "Was making a name for himself in the SEAL, last I heard. He wanted you to know he's very grateful."

"Seen him recently, have you?" Jee smiled back at the two men, taking a gulp of his beer.

"A few months back," replied Matt, his expression comically soppy now that he had two bottles of Budweiser settling in his gut. "He looked great. Successful. On his way to conquer the world. You really helped him and he remembers that."

"Good." Jee nodded, his smile growing. It was nice to hear. At least his sacrifice had not been entirely in vain. "And that bastard Gibbs?"

"Retired and vacationing in Haiti," a flash of disgust marred Shun's amiable, sun-burnt face. "At least, that's what they say. Anyhow, everyone's better off now that he's gone. The Navy's got enough bastards as it is."

"Yeah," Matt nodded vigorous assent. "Like Zhao. Did you hear that piece of shit got promoted _again_? Makes me sick in the gut just thinking about it."

Jee murmured in the affirmative, joining his friends in making a disgusted face. There was a note about it in the online Navy newsletter and it had caused Jee to deliver a colorful string of verbal abuse at his laptop screen.

"Well, what did you expect?" Shun shrugged, his expression turned grim. "He's pals with men like Ozai Xi. Of course he'd get promoted."

"That little bitch seemed fond of him all right." Matt spit into a corner. "Disgusting."

"Wait," Jee held up a hand, frowning and trying to pretend that Ozai Xi's name being dropped on him like that did not freeze his heartbeat for a second. "What little bitch? What are you talking about?"

"Oh right, you didn't know." Shun looked very eager to share the story. "We had an inspection a few months back. Lots of bigshots who wanted to see if we're putting their equipment to good use. You know, the whole circus. Ozai Xi decided to send his darling little girl for some reason. Zhao showed her around our ship. You should have seen him grovel at her feet like some damned domesticated poodle. He was this short of fetching her fucking slippers in his mouth."

_Zuko's sister_.

"What was she like?" asked Jee over the sudden twist in his gut. "Isn't she a bit young to be doing inspections?"

"Hell, you'd think that." Shun shook his head. "She's _sixteen_. But she knew her stuff all right. Very professional. And damn terrifying."

"No teenager should behave like that," Matt agreed. "I have a daughter her age. But that girl… she was a real bitch. Smart as all hell, obviously well groomed and trained lie a cyborg, but a bitch. You could tell. The way she looked at the men…" He shivered.

"And she played Zhao like you play the guitar," added Shun. "Would have been hilarious if she weren't so fucking scary. If _she_'s like that, I don't ever want to meet her daddy."

"You know what they say about the Xis," muttered Matt ominously. "Ozai is probably pals with every mafia boss in the country. The girl must be eager to take over, she already looked the type to deliver execution orders in her sleep. Those people ain't normal."

Jee did not realize how hard he had been frowning until Shun looked at him and asked if there was something wrong.

"What? No," muttered the man, gazing hard at his beer. Then, he decided to risk it. "But wasn't there a son? I heard there was a son, somewhere. An older brother."

Matt looked puzzled – he hated not knowing something and following media gossip was one of his favorite pastimes – but Shun simply shrugged, uninterested. "Maybe there is," he said. "Don't know, don't care. As long as they sell their stuff to us and not to the other side, I don't want to have anything more to do with them."

"Yeah," Matt seemed to share this sentiment. "But I haven't heard anything about a son. There's always just this freaky girl."

"Maybe I heard wrong," Jee mumbled into his beer, then emptied it with one gulp.

"Who gives a fuck. What's going on with _you_ these days, man?" Shun turned to Jee, grinning. "How's that new school treating ya?"

It was Jee's turn to shrug now, though his heart was still beating too fast for comfort. "You've seen one school, you've seen them all. Only difference is, this one has a lot of Asian kids and personnel. And the principal calls himself Headmaster, probably to feel more distinguished or something. Or he's watched too much _Harry Potter_."

However ridiculous it was to picture Pakku watching _Harry Potter_.

"Think you're going to stay there a bit longer this time?"

"Dunno. Their last gym teacher, the one I'm filling in for, messed up his knee somehow. Nobody knows how long he'll take to get back to work."

"So maybe they'll hire you for good?" Asked Matt.

Jee shrugged again. "I honestly don't know," he confessed. "I'm not even sure if I'd want that. Still, it'd be nice to settle down somewhere for longer than a semester or a school year, I guess."

But not in Summerfield. He couldn't see himself living there permanently… Especially not after Zuko went to college, leaving him without a purpose again, but that wasn't something he wanted to think about.

"I miss high school sometimes," Matt smiled wistfully. "Used to be one of the popular kids. Dated the head cheerleader and –"

"Yeah, yeah, we know," Jee nudged him with his elbow. "You were prom king and banged the queen in the john. Spare us the details this time."

"Do _you_ ever get to go to proms?" asked Shun, chuckling. "Relive the old school spirit stuff?"

"If they need chaperones. Then I usually just stand around and make sure no one fights or tries to spike the drinks. Apparently I'm good at looking intimidating." Jee finished his second glass of beer with one gulp. "I hate it."

"Oh come on," Matt laughed out loud. "It can't be that bad. Lots of nice young girls to ogle…"

Both Jee and Shun rose their eyebrows at him, which only made the captain laugh even harder once he realized his slip. "Okay, okay," he managed between fits, "nice young boys, too. Looking good in tuxes and… stuff. Don't tell me you haven't paid attention."

"You seem to forget that, unlike _some people_, Jee's not a pedo pervert," Shun rolled his eyes and patted his friend on the back. "Right, buddy?"

"Right," Jee mumbled, trying his hardest not to betray anything by frowning too hard. And _not _thinking about Zuko in a tux. "Anyway, it's usually bearable," he said loudly, steering the conversation back to safer waters. "I had to attend the homecoming game, but they spared me the dance this time. Didn't habe to do anything for Halloween either. Maybe it'll be the same with prom. Usually they manage to get enough staff for all the _school spirit_ events without including me."

"So what the hell do you do with your free time, then?" Shun wanted to know.

"Not a whole lot. There's this club we have," started Jee, and told them about Dancing Dragon Club, its many colorful members, the kind of stuff he taught, the atmosphere of the meetings, and then mentioned the Jasmine Dragon with its Music Nights and giving private lessons once a week to a talented kid, without mentioning any names. Both of his friends had working brains and were more up to date with everything, so they could make the connection faster than him; especially Matt, with an index of useless celebrity gossip stacked away in his head. Somehow, he didn't want these men to know he was training the son of Ozai Xi and frequenting a teashop run by the man's older brother.

"Between my normal lessons, the club and teaching that kid," he was saying in-between gulps from his third glass, "I don't really feel like doing anything else. Usually I just flop down in front of the TV in the evenings or read something. Dealing with adolescents is fucking exhausting."

"Oh yeah," Matt nodded in understanding. "I love my little girl, but we drive each other nuts whenever I'm home for longer than a week. It's like she's on a planet of her own. And if that kid you're teaching privately is really as bratty as you say, I feel sorry for you, man."

"He's… specific," murmured Jee. "And unpredictable. And angry. But not all that horrible. I'm kind of getting used to him. And he's a damn good fighter."

"Get him to join the Navy after graduation, then," suggested Shun. "We need recruits who can hold their own against creeps like Gibbs."

Jee almost snorted his beer out. "Hell no. He's not soldier material," he chuckled gruffly. "Shit at obeying orders. Not smart enough to give them. No, you're far better off without him."

For some strange reason, this remark prompted his friends into exchanging conspiratorial smirks. "What?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

"We kinda know someone else who used to be shit at obeying orders." Shun winked at him. "Or have you forgotten already?"

"Well aren't you two hilarious," retorted Jee dryly. "Are you implying I was too stupid to give orders, too?"

"Hey, all we're saying is, you weren't all that cut out for the job at first either, Jee," Matt held up his hands in a defensive gesture. "You never know."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you actually met the brat."

"All right, all right."

For a moment, Jee was sorely tempted to start talking about Toph now, just to divert their attention again, but he remembered in time the Bei Fong girl was coming to his classes in secret – babbling such a thing to these two could be potentially hazardous. He didn't want to risk messing with the Bei Fongs any more than he already was, especially now that he'd done some research and found out that he had another rich, suspicious family on his back now.

Which, in hindsight, explained the odd looks Zuko kept giving Toph during club meetings. He must have known her, or at least heard of her family, even if he was always careful to steer clear of her and never engaged her in conversation.

Maybe he was afraid she would recognize him.

"So are we to understand that you haven't met anyone in all this time?" asked Shun, downing his glass. "Apart from one-night-stands. You've never mentioned anyone."

"There's no one to mention," replied Jee, frowning again. "Why are you suddenly interested in my sex life?"

"You're not still mourning Stephen, though, are you?" inquired Matt, with his typical subtlety.

Jee glared at him over the rim of his glass. "No. It's been years."

"My point exactly," Matt decided to press it, either deliberately ignoring Jee's glaring or being oblivious to any social cues at this point. "Don't tell me you've discovered that your new calling is being celibate. You haven't hooked up with anyone all this time?"

"As I recall," Jee grumbled, "you used to run away screaming the second I started talking about my relationships."

"We all grow up eventually. Even our dear old Matt," proclaimed Shun philosophically. "What Captain Tact here was trying to say is, well… we've been sort of worried. You need to get laid, man."

"Your concern is touching." Jee shot them both a death glare. "No, I'm not pining. No, I don't have a partner. No, I'm not even trying to find one. Yes, we can stop this awkward conversation now and move on to other things before we start sounding even more like a soppy bunch of adolescent girls."

The other men nodded in understanding and the topic of Jee's bedroom partners was dropped; thankfully, they had not returned to it over the course of the evening, though Jee got the feeling his friends would start gossiping about it like a couple of little old ladies over stitching the second he left their company. After all, that was what he used to do himself when he was still a regular in their company.

He did not hold it against them. Sailors gossiped like washerwomen. It was one of the facts of life.

Jee did not even want to begin to imagine what they would have to say if they knew about Zuko…

They ended up talking until the bar closed, after which they returned, rather loudly and unsteadily, to the hotel; this meant that Jee would have all of next day to nurse the inevitable hangover and return to Summerfield by train early next morning. Once alone in his room, he collapsed onto the bed in his clothes and fell asleep almost immediately, and later remembered dreaming about Zuko and a faceless girl with a cruel smile, sparring in a ring of fire.

There was nothing scary about this dream, but he woke up early next morning drenched in cold sweat anyway.

ooooOoooo

"Like this," he instructed, planting his feet firmly on the ground. "Stay rooted. Don't lose your balance. Focus on your feet at all times, not just when you use them for kicking."

"Okay, okay, I get it," huffed Zuko impatiently. "Let's go again."

He did stay more rooted this time, at least until he leaped absurdly high into the air and went kicking at Jee – and the tiny millisecond when he was back on the ground and regaining his balance cost him the round. They would have to work on him regaining his footing more swiftly after similar acrobatic stunts if he was going to keep pulling them – and it seemed that he was. Sometimes Jee wondered, not without a twist of bitterness, whether Zuko insisted on doing impossible, gravity-defying things with his young, incredibly agile body during their private meetings just because Jee was too old and couldn't.

Still, progress was progress and the lieutenant nodded at Zuko to acknowledge it, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"Better. We will work on that some more next time."

"I want to go again." Zuko did not leave the sparring circle nor relaxed his stance, but he was panting and droplets of sweat crawled down his neck in a way Jee was not going to pay closer attention to.

"No." The man moved over to the bench and grabbed a water bottle. "That's enough. You're barely standing and I want to get home sometime before midnight."

This was ridiculous. They'd been having this argument nearly every time they sparred. The kid simply didn't know when to stop and, clearly, taking other people and their physical condition into account was as alien a concept to him as giving up. Jee enjoyed their sessions, but everything had its limits and he was definitely not going to spend all evening exchanging blows with a kid, however attractive said kid may be.

"Go and take a shower," he instructed, his back to Zuko. "Good work today. See you tomorrow in class."

"But –"

"Shower, Zuko. Give me a rest. I'm an old man."

And Jee might just follow his own advice and shower before getting into the car himself. Usually he didn't bother – there was no one around who could be grossed out by him smelling like the football team locker rooms – but tonight he didn't have anything to change into and his shirt was already clinging to his body in such a way that he might as well have been half-naked, which was anything but comfortable.

"Fine." He heard a petulant huff and then footsteps when Zuko joined him by the bench and started gathering his things.

"Doesn't your uncle ever worry?" asked Jee casually, strolling out of the gym with a pouting Zuko by his side. "You seem to come and go as you please."

That was true. Their private sessions were supposed to last no longer than thirty minutes, but as time went by, those thirty minutes seemed to stretch into more and more, up until one evening when Jee glanced at his watch between highly satisfying rounds to discover they had been in the gym for over two hours. He paid closer attention to time since then, but extending their practice to an hour had become the routine; and if Zuko could have his way, he would have them stay there for the rest of the night.

Not to mention he managed to talk Jee into meeting on extra days several times already.

The kid shrugged, stepping through the threshold into the corridor and standing to the side so that Jee could lock the gym.

"Uncle knows I'm with you," he murmured. "He doesn't mind. And he's used to me being home late."

Jee nodded, deciding that he couldn't be bothered to judge the effectiveness of Iroh's parenting strategies, and together they walked in the direction of his office and the student locker rooms, which were in the same direction.

It was strange how comfortable those moments had become. Leaving the gym with Zuko had been awkward initially, with Jee not quite knowing what to say and Zuko apparently not interested in saying anything at all, and they used to part ways in silence wrought with tension – but, little by little, with every late training session, the air was getting clearer, the atmosphere more relaxed, the words started to appear all on their own, and when they didn't, the silence seemed infinitely less awkward as well. Now there was practically no trace of the initial discomfort left – well, unless one counted the one that stemmed from sharing any space with Zuko for an extended period of time, as the boy's talent for creating awkwardness out of nothing at all was only matched by his talent in martial arts.

And his temper.

But still.

There were still moments every now and then when Jee would catch a more lingering look or would lose himself for a second too long in admiring a particularly enticing view of Zuko's body; pauses when the memory of their kiss sparked and trickled into the air between them, generating new tension and filling the space with half-acknowledged, unspoken longing. But those were far and few in between, now; and the two of them seemed to have reached an unspoken understanding to press on in spite of them, acting as though nothing inappropriate had ever passed.

Which was probably mostly because Zuko was too focused on training and getting better, which, as it turned out, was a stronger driving force for him than making out with Jee (and the lieutenant was thankful for that, he really was). Frustrated shouting was more common between them now, and sometimes it turned into pretty heated arguments whenever Jee ran particularly low on patience and didn't feel like dealing with any of the kid's crap. But even after such sessions, when they parted on pretty hostile terms, Zuko always came back for more. It would have been pretentious – or just plain infuriating – the way he would show up in the gym expectantly and stare at Jee, failing not only to apologize for whatever fit he had thrown the week before, but to even acknowledge it with a single word, instead expecting Jee to simply carry on with their session as normal… if it hadn't been so damn impressive.

Jee had to respect that kind of dedication, even if he had to choke on a colorful string of invectives at least once a week because of the brat.

He left the boy by the locker room with a laconic goodbye and strode over to his own office, already looking forward to having a relaxing stream of hot water run down his back to soothe the strain in his muscles – but this particular train of thought was abandoned as soon as Jee stepped into the main corridor and was greeted by the sight on the other side of the tall windows.

Oh.

He hadn't heard the rain back in the gym – neither of them had, too busy with the job at hand. But then again, the only windows they had were high up by the ceiling, so it wasn't all that strange.

Except that it really was, because it looked _vicious_ out there.

Jee stood motionless for a minute or so, watching the torrents of rain beat against the glass and the trees swaying in the wind as if they were about to break, and thought:

_Zuko might not have a car_.

He probably didn't. It had been a decent morning, with lots of sunshine and nothing that would herald the storm that was now bent on flooding the school parking lot, and Jee knew that usually, as long as the weather permitted, the kid preferred to ride his bike to and from school. Jee had learned this surprising fact when he first offered Zuko a ride back home after their Thursday practice – the kid declined, even though he was clearly exhausted and barely standing.

It was not the first time when talking to Zuko made Jee feel like he was dealing with a maniac, but it was one of the more memorable.

There was no way the brat was going to ride his bike home in this weather.

Having momentarily made up his mind, Jee nearly sprinted to his office to get his things and lock it, then ran back, intent on catching up with Zuko before the brat indulged his suicidal instincts and took off on his own.

He knocked on the locker room door, but there was no answer.

Fuck. Zuko couldn't have made it out in the short time it took Jee to get his things together, could he?

"Zuko!" the man called out, stepping into the locker room.

It was empty, but before Jee had the time to panic and run out to the parking lot to try and intercept his insane student, he heard the sound of running water in the adjoining shower stalls and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Zuko!" he called out again, louder, taking a few steps into the room until he reached its middle.

And then he stopped, as though colliding with an invisible wall.

He did not trust himself to get any closer to the showers. The temptation to venture those extra few steps and take a small little peep would be too strong. No, he'd stay right here like a good boy, safe and sound, and wait for the kid to return…

And maybe entertain the very appealing mental images of Zuko in the shower in the meantime. But not too extensively. He allowed himself to indulge in similar fantasies more liberally now that the danger of them actually happening was reduced to a minimum, but it was one thing to admire the kid when he was fighting and then contemplate the sight back home, and quite another to fantasize about him in the shower when the very scene was being played out just a few feet away from him.

Not to mention it would be more than embarrassing if Zuko caught him with a hard-on.

"What?" came Zuko's voice, booming with echoes from the shower stalls and muffled by running water.

"I'm taking you home tonight," shouted Jee from his spot in the middle of the locker room. "It's raining cats and dogs out there."

"What?"

"I'm taking you –"

"I can't hear you!"

"Never mind!" Jee ran a hand through his short hair and sighed.

He strode to a bench on the opposite side of the room from the showers, leaned his back against the lockers and waited, trying to shut the images now spinning in his head from getting any more vivid.

Home. He would be home soon. Then he would let himself slip. Not now.

His resolve underwent a fleeting crisis, though, when Zuko stepped into the room a few minutes later, with nothing on but a towel wrapped around his middle.

Oh fuck.

"I said I'll drive you home tonight," said Jee quickly before Zuko could spot his reaction, looking into the boy's eyes and _nowhere else_. "That is, if you haven't come by car today."

"I haven't. Why?" Zuko opened his locker and started laying out his clothes, looking away from Jee – but not before the man noticed the shadow of a blush beginning to creep into his face.

Brilliant. Here was a potential fuck-up in the making, precisely of the sort the lieutenant had been dreading. Jee stifled a groan and run a hand over his tired face, shutting his eyes for a bit under the pretense of fatigue.

And here he thought he had been doing so well…

"Because it looks like a fucking flood out there," he explained in a strained voice.

"Oh." For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of rustling fabric, and Jee couldn't help but peep through his fingers – Zuko was getting into his underwear, sliding it up his long, strong legs with the towel still wrapped around him, his back half-turned towards his teacher, his body bent over.

Holy mother of…

The expanse of white skin in front of him stirred urges which Jee relentlessly toiled to keep corked and stored safely away. Like the urge to walk up and stand behind the brat, and run his hand over the rippling muscles of his back again – his skin _still_ remembered how good that felt – before caressing those sharp hipbones and grabbing, _hard_…

"I can still get there on my own," said Zuko, his voice sounding as though it came from another country instead from the other end of the room.

"I'm pretty sure I'd be thrown out of the teachers club if I let you," murmured Jee, shutting his eyes again before his body reacted without consulting his brain. "I'll be waiting for you in the corridor. We'll fit your bike into my car. Hurry up."

Then, he all but fled from the locker rooms, trying to maintain what little dignity he could muster, before Zuko caught on to the situation and decided to do something provocative, like drop the towel. For all Jee knew, he just might.

Once safely back in the corridor and with the door to the locker room shut behind him, Jee took a couple deep breaths and leaned against the wall. Usually, he did pretty well with reigning in such reactions in the presence of the boy, but that had been a close call. He hadn't seen Zuko without his shirt on ever since that night in his room – which was another sign that the kid was at least trying to behave now – and the sight bothered him much more than it ought to. Or maybe it was the damn towel that did it, the towel and the sheer, overwhelming, _crushing_ certainty of what was – or wasn't – underneath.

But maybe he was lucky and Zuko hadn't noticed anything…

Yeah, right. Or maybe Jee was just a delusional, horny old man who really should have known better than to stay in that locker room once he made sure Zuko was still there.

And now he had a brand new fantasy to add to his already creepily impressive collection. Who was he even trying to fool…

But it was okay. Just a temporary slip. No biggie. He'd move past it and behave like a responsible adult, much like he managed to behave all this time. Their practice sessions clearly showed that he could go for extended periods of time without lusting after Zuko.

Really.

Especially whenever the kid acted like a spoiled little brat, because it was hard to appreciate someone's fine physique when you mostly just wanted to clip them nice and good around the ears.

By the time the door to the locker room opened and revealed a decent-looking Xi wearing a loose-fitting red-and-black jacket over a hoodie with its hood put up, Jee had gotten a good enough grip on himself to smile at the kid without much awkwardness. He led the way out of the sports wing in silence, Zuko following slowly, but sans further protests.

The kid did not comment on the rain, but he did pause when he saw it through the windows.

His bike, looking sad and lonely as the only one still waiting for its owner to unfasten it from the stand outside the entrance to the sports wing, was predictably drenched. Jee looked on, the hood of his tracksuit providing a very feeble shield against the downpour already drenching both of them, as Zuko got the bike free of the chain and hoisted it up with a grunt, not turning to his teacher for help.

Stubborn bastard.

"This way!" Jee shouted to be heard over the rain, then led the way to his battered old Ford.

Fitting the bike into his trunk turned out to be quite the Herculean job and, sadly, Jee could not measure up to the legendary hero – after a few failed tries he gave up and simply jammed it into the backseat instead, getting the seats wet be damned. Nobody used his backseat these days anyway and it would dry off soon enough. Getting himself and the kid into the car was the priority now.

"Shit," he heard Zuko murmur once the kid shut the door behind him and started fastening the seat belt.

"You can say that again," grumbled Jee. "Just let me turn on the heating…"

He had long since abandoned the idea to try and instill some proper discipline into his interactions with Zuko, like stopping the boy from swearing. That would have achieved nothing but unnecessary alienation. Besides, he enjoyed being able to communicate with this boy on a more relaxed footing and it seemed that Zuko appreciated it in his own peculiar way.

Maybe it made him feel more grownup.

Their waterlogged clothes were heavy and dripping and Jee's teeth were close to chattering, but once the engine started and the heat poured blissfully in along with the sounds of his old The Decemberists CD playing on low volume, Jee gradually stopped shivering and glanced to the side to see if Zuko did, too. It was hard to tell – the kid sat leaning against the door, looking ahead with a blank expression. His soaked backpack rested on the floor between his legs – the sight of it made Jee realize something.

"I don't even know what other subjects you're taking," he said, driving carefully out of the parking lot. "Got all your credits already?"

He thought he caught Zuko shrug and draw in on himself out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't be sure. The blasted rain made it damn impossible to see anything for longer than a split of second, even with Jee's wipes working full steam, so he couldn't very well risk looking at the boy too often or he would get them both killed in a ditch somewhere.

"More or less," he heard the raspy voice mutter, the tone indicating Zuko was not in a conversational mood. "I'm taking AP Calculus, Economics and Comparative Government and Politics. Computer Lab and English, too."

"Three AP classes, eh?" Jee whistled. "Ambitious. And do you like them?"

It was a while before Zuko replied with a small, quiet "No."

Jee nodded before he even caught himself doing it. He suspected as much. All of that sounded like an awful lot of hard, boring workload aimed, no doubt, at pleasing Daddy. And Jee may not know Ozai Xi personally, nor was he aware of the mysterious circumstances surrounding Zuko's banishment to Michigan, but he could venture a pretty good guess as to the odds of that happening.

The poor, delusional bastard…

"But you're doing all right?" he asked, just to keep the conversation going.

"I… manage."

"Must be hard."

"It is." And that seemed to be all the brat was willing to divulge.

Right. Obviously Zuko didn't feel like taking care to keep the ball in the air. Jee resigned himself to a silent ride all the way to the Jasmine Dragon, with nothing but the music and the rain beating down on his windows for company – and it did remain this way for the first chunk of the journey while they were passing the suburban area of Summerfield with the foresty stretch in-between, the school being situated a good distance from the downtown. But once they got nearer to the city park and the lights of downtown proper started to flicker in the distance, Zuko shifted in his seat and took in a deep breath as though gearing himself up for something.

"Did you go to college?" he asked quietly, something obviously making him uneasy.

"I did," replied Jee levelly, focusing on the road ahead. "After I enlisted. You cannot become a Navy officer without a college degree."

"But isn't it unusual, to become an officer after enlisting as a regular?"

Jee stifled a smile. The kid was giving away his background just now and didn't even realize it.

"Unusual, but not impossible," he replied lightly. "I was lucky. Someone higher up noticed me, decided I would make a decent officer and invested in me. They sent me to the US Naval Academy."

His education had been completely paid for by the Navy, so his mother didn't have a reason to protest and bother his dad to send in more money. The deal made everyone happy, especially once his officer salary started coming in. Mom earned her own living just fine, but Jee sent her a regular sum anyway, if only to keep up appearances and put his conscience at ease. That and an obligatory exchange of holiday cards – even if his family had never been particularly religious – had been the extent of his filial duties as far as both of them were concerned.

"Why, are you thinking of joining the military after graduation?" he asked when Zuko didn't say anything for a longer while.

There was more shifting on the seat to his right.

"I… don't know," Zuko confessed. "It's a possibility, I guess."

_Because you sincerely want to try it or because you think becoming a war hero would make Ozai Xi proud?_

There was a small opening there, but Jee had to be careful about it. He hadn't had a longer conversation with the boy that didn't pertain to their training ever since Zuko agreed to the private lessons deal, and something whispered at Jee to squeeze everything he could out of this rare opportunity, but it was delicate ground. He had been building _something_ with this boy and sacrificing it now just to satisfy his curiosity would have been a shame.

Besides, what Matt and Shun said about Ozai and Azula Xi was still gnawing at him.

"Actually, now that I think about it," he started slowly, "wasn't your uncle in the military? I thought I heard his name before."

The way the silence suddenly grew cold and prickly told him Zuko was _not_ happy with this casual discovery. Jee wondered briefly if the kid was going to bluff now. He'd never seen him attempt it before and he imagined it could be quite interesting.

But apparently Zuko realized it would be futile to bluff his way out of this one in front of an ex-military man – or he simply couldn't think up a lie on the spot – and opted for the truth, probably hoping Jee would leave him in peace if he did.

"He was," he admitted sullenly, his tone positively spiky. "But that's not any of your business."

_In other words, here there be dragons_, Jee translated to himself. _Don't go any further or you'll get burned_.

Too bad Jee's natural curiosity already shot that horse in the face.

"Just because I allow you to swear in my company doesn't mean you get to be a rude brat," he admonished the boy. "I was just curious. Relax, kid."

If the silence was anything to go by, Zuko didn't relax for a considerable while, but Jee decided to ignore it. They were getting close to downtown now anyway and would soon stop by the teashop, and if Zuko wanted to mutely simmer for the rest of the ride, who was Jee to deny him?

And if he felt a little disappointed Zuko didn't trust him enough by now to confide in him, well then, there was nothing he could do about it. Prodding now would only make it worse.

Time. They needed more time, but they were getting there.

Slowly.

"What's this music?" asked Zuko when they were just a few blocks away from the Jasmine Dragon; his tone still carried some of its previous prickliness, but had enough conciliatory softness that Jee could interpret it as a call for armistice.

"The Decemberists. It's a good band. Do you like it?"

"… Yeah." It sounded almost as if Zuko was ashamed to admit it. "It's decent, I guess."

Jee smiled.

"I could lend you the CD if you like," he offered. "If you have anything to listen to it on, that is. You kids seem to have forgotten what a proper album looks like."

"I noticed you don't have a way to connect an iPod in the car," replied Zuko, his tone more confident now that they steered clear from the dangerous, stormy waters that was his family. "Don't tell me you still use a CD walkman."

"Hey, nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, right." Zuko almost-chuckled and Jee's smile grew. It was good to see he managed to lift the boy's mood again, even if was at his expense. "You only say that because you don't know any better."

"Do you want that CD or not, you brat?" Jee asked with exaggerated exasperation, which sometimes worked in putting Zuko even more at ease.

"Yeah, why not. Got anything else decent that's not old people music?"

"Are you _trying_ to insult me?"

There was a silent beat, and then came Zuko's quiet "No," which sounded surprisingly sincere and also strangely gentle, in a way that made warmth spill in Jee's gut that had nothing to do with the car's heating.

They pulled to a halt by the Jasmine Dragon a minute later and Jee rummaged in the small storage space by Zuko's legs to find the packet for the CD, while Zuko got out and started working on extricating his bike from the Ford's backseat. It was still pouring down as though the rain had no intention of ever stopping, and when Jee got out to help the kid with the bike, he silently cursed the world for getting soaked all over again just as he was beginning to feel dry.

Still. He couldn't say the evening had been wasted.

"See you tomorrow, then," he said once the bike was freed and set down on the pavement. "Here," he reached out with the album in his hand. "Bring it back whenever and enjoy."

Zuko nodded, his face blurred in the rain, and reached out to take the CD – his thumb brushed over Jee's hand lightly, in a way that could easily be dismissed as accidental.

He looked up into Jee's eyes briefly, then back down at his feet, tucking the CD into the pocket of his jacket.

"Thanks," he mumbled. And somehow, it was clear he didn't mean the music.

There it was again, that warm feeling in Jee's chest. Oh God, his mid-life crisis was upon him and manifesting itself by turning Jee into a great big sap. He'd better be careful or he'll start watching romantic comedies next…

But no. The evening had definitely not been wasted.

"Anytime. Now run inside before your uncle kills me for keeping you out in the rain."

He got back into the driver's seat of his Ford and watched from the car as Zuko's dark silhouette disappeared around the teashop, probably to the back door; then, he restarted the engine, turned on the radio and rejoined the traffic.

And if he hummed a little along the way, it was purely because the music on the radio was good and definitely, absolutely _not_ for any other reason.

* * *

**A/N 2**: A cookie goes to everyone who spotted my sneaky "Avengers" easter egg, which is a special little touch dedicated to my friend Err. Hope you enjoyed it, girl.

THANK YOU, kind readers and reviewers. You keep my creative juices flowing and I need A LOT of that at the moment, I kid you not.

Next time: Jee does introspection, finds stuff in his pocket and complains about modern punk.


	14. Chapter 11: Baby Steps

**A/N**: Happy Christmas! :D I hope yours was wonderful. Mine certainly was, for many different reasons. The biggest of all being that **"Substitute" now has a fan-fanfic to go with it**! "In which Jee discovers that Christmas is not all that bad" written by the lovely Samalane is the ultimate holiday extravaganza filled with warm, fluffy (and some smutty too) goodies and can be found at princebender tumblr com. It's set in the future, but though Samalane used the Substitute setting, it's entirely her own variation on what she imagines the boys to be like in the future, so there's no fear of spoilers. I rec it wholeheartedly.

Another thing is that the Princebender crew is hosting a Jeeko Secret Santa with all sorts of delicious prompts, so I highly recommend cheking out the blog regularly because awesome stuff of all sorts is about to pour in.

Lastly, if you're interested in Zuko cross-gen slash more generally, I've recently written quite a lengthy Hakoda/Zuko oneshot which can be found on my AO3 account (not posting it here due to its rather racy nature).

Now, on with the show! This chapter is not exactly a Christmas chapter (those will come soon), but hopefully there's enough winter in it to make up for it. Winter and music. And other stuff. In fact, chapter 11 is more like a patchwork of fillers than an actual chapter, but I hope you forgive me for this. I promise chapter 12 will be more interesting.

* * *

Zuko waited until their next private meeting before he returned the CD.

"Wasn't too boring" was the reluctant verdict as the boy slid the album in Jee's direction across the bench where they were both sitting, taking a small rest between the DDC meeting and their training.

Jee looked at him incredulously. "_Not too boring_," he repeated. "Are you kidding? Or is it simply your teenage way of expressing praise?"

He was surprised to see the corner of Zuko's lips go upward in a smirk that looked as if the boy was smiling at some very private memory. "I know a person for whom _not too boring_ is a huge compliment, you know," he murmured with the same smirk in place and looking out to something only he could see. "But look inside," he added after a pause. "There's… something more."

Intrigued, Jee opened the packet and – well, whadya know. There really was a surprise tucked inside. A new CD peeked up at him from a paper envelope, blank and unsigned.

"Just something I burned," Zuko explained in a voice that he obviously tried very hard to make nonchalant, looking down at his bare feet. "You'll get the names of songs and bands when you play it on your PC."

Jee looked at the blank CD.

Then at the kid.

Then back at the CD.

And all this time, his brain was trying to get him to acknowledge that indeed, he was _not_ hallucinating this, a connection _did_ exist between the two and he really _was_ the intended recipient at the end of this chain… But the concept behind all this felt entirely too outlandish to be true.

"You burned me a CD," he said, because somehow this needed to be said out loud.

Zuko immediately squared his shoulders and stuck out his chin, ready to defend himself as though from a physical blow. "Yeah," he said, as though daring Jee to mock him about it. "Thought you might like it. It's… uh, it has energy. So it's good. For the car."

"Right." Jee still couldn't quite stop staring at the boy as though he'd just announced he was taking up ballet.

"Well?" Zuko got to his feet abruptly, suddenly flustered. "Are we going to get started or what?"

"Yes, fine." Jee followed him to the mats. "Thank you. That's very… um…"

Surprising. Thoughtful. Unusual. _Weird._

Zuko did that thing again, the one where he almost smiled, but not quite, then shrugged his shoulders as if shrugging off the fleeting moment of intimacy.

"Let's just get on with it, okay?" he pleaded, getting into a stance.

Right. Right. Business first, unusual gifts from confused teens later.

And, beginning their routine round of sparring, Jee wondered how they had managed to move on to music-sharing level.

oooooooOoooooo

He was sorely tempted to listen to Zuko's CD right away, in the car, but some part of him wanted to resist and wait until he got to the apartment so that he could give the music his full attention on his first hearing. Making it into vague background noise whilst driving felt somehow unfair to the Xi kid. Maybe it was a stupid sentiment, but he knew music was damn important when you were seventeen and there was a slight, tiny possibility that the songs the boy selected were meant to _tell_ Jee something. If there was a message there, Jee didn't want to miss it.

Which, the old cynic in him insisted, was a stupid fancy and a hopeful delusion of a horny old fool. But the rest of him insisted on clinging to it anyway.

_Energetic_, the boy had said. Well. That part held true at least for some of those songs, but what Zuko _should_ have warned Jee about, the man thought as he sat there in front of his PC spinning this way and that on the worn revolving chair and listening to the moaning racket currently violating his poor speakers, was that it was _loud_. Loud being the key defining feature, and it was only after a considerable while that Jee got used to it enough to pay attention to anything other than the outrageous level of decibels.

Once he found the courage and goodwill to play the CD again in order to actually catch some lyrics this time, it turned out most of the songs did have something to say about Zuko: mainly, almost all of them were about some sort of misery. In fact, it would be easy – too easy – to dismiss them as cheap, exalted adolescent angst, then put them completely out of one's mind and move on to bigger and better things, like music that's actually _good_. But given that the Xi kid had selected those particular numbers specifically for Jee to listen to; that he elected to spend his precious time on choosing them deliberately, instead of moping around on facebook or whatever it was lonely kids like him did with their free time these days; the lieutenant felt he owed the boy. So he forced himself to listen on, to somehow see past the trashy garage sound and the overblown sentimentality, to pay closer attention and put them in the context of what he already knew about Zuko, which…

Well. Which eventually brought about some rather interesting conclusions.

The CD played on loop throughout the rest of the evening as Jee prepared himself dinner, ate it and hung the laundry out to dry; it continued to roar out its many laments as the man spent some time online, and it kept on wailing in the background as he flicked idly through the many channels cable had to offer, TV set on mute. Almost against his better judgment, Jee even took the music to bed with him, playing it on his portable CD player with the headphones in as he lay on his back in darkness, eyes closed, arms crossed behind his head on the pillow.

In the end, it was worth it. Little by little, with every new lyric forcing itself into Jee's consciousness, with every drumbeat thrumming aggressively through his body and every electric guitar moan sizzling into the darkness behind his closed eyelids, the picture he had of Zuko grew, deepened, gained new dimensions and colors. The image of the boy, crisp and vibrant and vivacious like Zuko himself, floated on the forefront of Jee's mind through the night with each note, giving new meaning and sense to words which would have been laughably melodramatic, supercilious and just plain dumb without this personal context to shape them; and suddenly they _fit_, they verbalized what Jee supposed Zuko never could nor would, but wanted to enough to let Jee in on it some other way.

And it was really quite shocking – the lieutenant smirked to himself bitterly in the darkness – to realize how much attention he was paying to what, not so long ago, he would have dismissed out of hand as a passing adolescent rage phase. Hell, this was exactly how he used to think of such music, how he still regarded a good chunk of it. Too loud, too needy, too pandering, too emotional in this cheap, shouty, whiny kind of way. And yet here he was, with this exact whining filling his ears when any other sane person ought to be fast asleep, and wrenching deeper meanings out of it just to better understand a single, confused boy.

He shouldn't care this much. He shouldn't feel this burning curiosity which drove him to this in the first place. He shouldn't want to prod, to poke, to stick his nose into something that, to all intents and purposes, was _exactly_ a passing adolescent rage phase. A man his age ought to know as much.

But no. It wasn't just that. Jee knew that now, had known from the very beginning perhaps. Besides, he had been in a very similar place that Zuko was struggling out of right now, and this perspective made all the difference.

Zuko _gave_ him this CD. He burned it just for him. He wanted Jee to listen to it. He wanted it to speak for him, to give voice to things he could not utter. Which, in the end, meant everything and was exactly why the man was now putting himself willingly through this ordeal. Curiously given his cynical nature, the thought that the gesture meant nothing beyond what it was on the surface – a boy willing to share some music he regarded as good – had never crossed Jee's mind throughout all this. No. It was Zuko, for God's sake, and he never did trivial and pointlessly social things like that without a reason.

This kid _trusted_ Jee with all the things that lay inherent in those songs. He decided to take the risk and make this one step forward, which, for him, was probably a huge deal.

And it was this knowledge, this realization, which, more than the comforter, kept the lieutenant warm that night and prevented his finger from pressing _stop_.

oooooooOoooooo

He slipped a short note into Zuko's hand when he passed the kid in the sports' wing corridor in the morning, one that said _You call this music?_

In the evening, while checking the pockets of his pants before he put them in the washing machine, he found a crumpled piece of paper torn from a notebook. It was covered in huge, inelegant scrawls that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be letters.

_Too intense for you, old man? Want some Justin Bieber next time? _

"Sneaky bastard," murmured Jee to himself with a smirk as he tossed the pants in with the rest of the laundry, shaking his head.

The note was in his back pocket. He would have to ask the brat one day how he'd managed to slip it inside without Jee feeling anything.

oooooooOoooooo

Jee refrained from commenting on the CD openly and carefully avoided mentioning any of the observations he'd made because of it to Zuko. And this, as he learned very soon, turned out to be a wise decision. The boy acted slightly giddy and restless the first few days after his surprising gift, as though expecting Jee to make some remark on it, personal or otherwise; but as days went by without a single comment on the music, he became much more relaxed, even confident, during their private sessions. In fact, it felt as if another door had been left slightly ajar, enough for Jee to put a foot in to prevent it from shutting again; an invitation to take that one little step further, and then another. Tip-toe progress, but one that was undeniably there. Jee had never kept a written account of what he would have called "The Xi Project," but if he had, he would have put down the days between him giving Zuko that The Decemberists album and winter break as _very promising_.

He drove the boy back home after their private sessions almost regularly now – Jee guessed Zuko took to riding the school bus in the mornings just for that, which made him feel much warmer inside than the simple gesture warranted. It had become a time when, their bodies exhausted and their minds eased in that unique way only physical exertion could bring, they either shared silences that, Jee was pleased to note, were not entirely uncomfortable most of the time, or had lackadaisical, pause-punctuated conversations about music, movies, even school on those scarce occasions when Zuko felt more talkative.

And, little by little, it was becoming Jee's favorite part of the week.

Eager to encourage more of this promising development, he lent the kid some more CDs he thought Zuko might appreciate and Xi returned the favor by bringing him more of his own. This usually resulted in light teasing regarding their mutual tastes, which in turned subtly, sneakily, paved the way for more personal insights and brought Jee that much closer to his intended aim: making Zuko trust him enough to feel comfortable around him.

Baby steps, he kept telling himself. Baby steps.

And it was quite funny, as the lieutenant thought sometimes, how invested he had become in the whole thing. Day by day, night by night, with every minute he spent in the company of the boy, everything not related to Zuko seemed to be getting just a little bit paler, a tiny bit duller. Jee caught himself thinking about the kid without even realizing he was doing it, with a frequency that would have been alarming had he only realized what it was he was slowly getting himself into. But he didn't, so he failed to pay much heed to it and simply carried on, relying on the explanations he had himself concocted to rationalize this unusual fascination. The crux of this reasoning was, he suspected, that he had missed having a purpose. Being useful. Being needed. Making a real, perceivable difference. Ever since leaving the Navy he had been drifting restlessly, _pointlessly_; moving from one town to another like a vagabond, whichever way the whimsical wind of teaching vacancies blew him; his shoulders hunched under the bitterness of his resignation and perceived disgrace; under the overwhelming perspective of _nothing substantial whatsoever_ waiting for him on the horizon. Teaching, once a rewarding, fulfilling activity against the backdrop of ever-busy boot camp and majestic ships plowing ahead across the ocean waves, had lost its distinct, triumphant flavor now that it had this very backdrop stripped away. Instead, Jee was left with a meager echo of once-familiar routines, bitterly mocking for its lack of bigger significance and all the poorer for comparison.

Somehow, Zuko had changed all that. He was remarkably reminiscent of a Navy cadet without actually being one, even excluding the military background of his family, and he provided Jee with a solid goal which now seemed achievable, an attainable point at the end of the road. Training him, witnessing his gradual yet very measurable progress under Jee's tutelage, was just as engrossing and rewarding as tearing through the boy's many, many inner shells. It was a diversion, more lasting and distracting for the enduring challenge it presented, and for this precise reason it had put Jee's stay in Summerfield in sharper, brighter colors; made the air crisper, the smells richer, the sounds more vibrant, the sights somehow more pleasing to the eye.

In short, clichéd though it may sound, Zuko made Jee feel alive again.

Not that Jee himself would have put it this way. In some respects, he remained in stubborn denial and insisted before himself, whenever those thoughts plagued him late at night in his lonely bed, that he was perfectly capable of leading a life of his own rather than living Zuko's. The kid was _not_ the centre of his world. Nor was he going to become one. The rest of the kids in Dancing Dragon Club were all talented and eager, and seeing them progress was a pleasure all on its own – besides, unlike Zuko, most of them were capable of expressing gratitude, and in actual words and smiles, too. Jee suspected he would have enjoyed leading his Thursday meetings even had Zuko not been a part of them – enjoyed them more, perhaps, for this very reason, as there would not have been anyone to distract him.

Ah yes. That other thing. Distraction. That, too, was a curious business. Jee couldn't in all honesty say that he managed to free himself of temptation – hell no. It was still there between them, casting its ugly shadow on every minute spent together. But, for the most part, that is precisely what it remained – a shadow, something that doesn't interfere but just sits there, a thing that remains unacknowledged and forgotten until something about it catches one's eye. From time to time, either Jee or Zuko would be sharply reminded of its existence and this would manifest itself in a look or a touch that briefly lingered, or in a stutter or the twinkle of the eye; a brief flash of a message that whispered _I'm still interested_. This couldn't be avoided, Jee thought, given that the very nature of their training required them to touch one another frequently, if only in combat – and sometimes he had to forcibly fight shivers from overtaking him when his skin slid against Zuko's in a block or a punch. Such fleeting moments would pop up, sizzle with sexual tension and grind everything into a halt for the quickest of heartbeats, only to be pushed aside in the next, when time returned and, with it, the unforgiving reality.

Besides, it was… flattering. Not that Jee allowed himself to think like that, but every now and again when he accidentally received more proof of the kid's continued interest, he felt stupidly _proud_. Troubled, too, for a thousand different reasons. But proud.

He still had dreams and fantasies about Zuko. Vivid, detailed ones. But it was all right as long as this was precisely what they remained. Fantasies never hurt anyone – perhaps apart from the person weaving them.

And so it went, day by day, week by week, in a rhythm set by music and lyrics, by punches and kicks, by explosive shouting and tentative smiles, while, while the trees lost what little remained of their leaves and rain turned into snow…

oooooooOoooooo

Winter arrived violently and with next to no warning. It brought many gifts of welcome, including snow, blizzards, puddles of melted snow in the corridors, a plethora of sneezing and runny noses and – definitely worst of all – the plague of Christmas songs playing on every radio station one tuned into at random. Summerfield underwent the obligatory winter transformation gradually so the dazzling flood of colorful little flickers at night didn't come as a shock to Jee, but he still scoffed at the stupid, gaudy, sickeningly sweet decorations on people's front lawns and the gazillion holiday ads assaulting him from every shop window he passed whenever he drove or strolled through the town. Sure, it was picturesque – for a given value of the adjective at least, and really, "kitschy" seemed to encompass it better – but year after year the American people seemed to pride themselves on taking their festive spirit to new, absurd extremes. Driving through the suburbia, one would think it was a contest of who would pay the biggest electricity bill – and knowing the general mindset of such people, it probably was. Jee, who never cared much for the holiday in the first place, found it ridiculous.

His own apartment was a few blocks away from downtown in an uninteresting, gray, shoddy street that thankfully cared very little for the festive spirit – possibly because the people here actually knew what it was like to struggle with the bills. This meant that Jee had been spared the gaudy Christmas lights winking into his bedroom at night with invasive cheer. The town's Asian district resisted this Western frenzy as much as it would, too, and with a possessive pride that took Jee by surprise. But there was no question that winter break was looming on the horizon and the students' attitude – a very specific kind of distraction, flavored with agitation and giddiness that Jee had seen time and time again and had long ago ceased to fight – accentuated it very visibly.

It didn't help that the school apparently decided it wanted to embrace the spirit of Christmas, whatever the hell it was, and everywhere Jee turned he was accosted by red and green and lights and garlands and other festive shit whose only purpose seemed to be to annoy Jee and make his life harder by distracting the students even more.

His face must have shown exactly how much he disapproved of this state of things when he first entered Flowing Creek and beheld the abominable new décor, because Ming laughed out loud when she passed him.

"Cheer up, Grumps," she said then, nudging him with her takeaway Starbucks cappuccino. "It's only for a few weeks."

_A few weeks indeed_, he felt like shouting after her. A minute of this seemed too much like an early portion of hell…

However, winter also deemed it appropriate to present them with the one thing that was indisputably good: Snow Days. Jee decided to celebrate their very first one by driving out of town, just to see where the road would take him, and he spent a moderately pleasant afternoon wading through a deserted nature park amidst a sea of white, until he accidentally stumbled upon a small, frozen lake. Having encircled it twice, in blissful quiet and calming solitude that only a fresh coating of snow could bring, Jee decided that enough was enough and a warming cup of tea was in order – preferably one made by Iroh Xi.

For many very different reasons Jee had no objections to visiting the teashop these days.

ooooooOoooooo

Unsurprisingly, the Jasmine Dragon was packed. Fall and winter was in all likelihood when Iroh's already popular business boomed – when Jee entered, the shop was bursting with chattering clientele eager for steaming, fragrant cups to warm their hands against. A huge chunk of the crowd consisted of Flowing Creek students enjoying their brief and unexpected freedom instead of, say, catching up on their homework, those lazy bastards. Jee found himself nodding left and right in greetings to familiar, beaming faces as a smiling Jin led him to a table near the kitchen door which had only just been vacated.

Jee realized, to his own surprise, that he didn't mind the crowd all that much. In a way, it felt… good. After his solitary walk the familiarity actually lifted his spirits even more instead of grating on his nerves. Besides, he rarely got the opportunity to stay at one place for long enough to blend in as thoroughly as he had in this town, and to know that, despite his admittedly formidable reputation, some of the students still seemed to like him in a way…

Like that _very_ familiar crowd by the window, for example; Jee smiled when his eyes fell on them. It was surprising to see Toph Bei Fong sitting cheerfully with what Jee came to refer to in his mind as "That Lot": Katara, Sokka, Suki and Aang, sometimes joined by Haru, Korra, Bolin and the kid in the wheelchair whose name, as Jee learned from Ming, was Teo. Today it was just the regular core of the group, laughing collectively at Toph's comment as the girl sat there smirking smugly and swinging her deviously tiny feet in the air.

Jee replied to their friendly salutes with a nod, feeling a new wave of respect towards chief Lin Bei Fong. It looked like the iron lady managed to keep dropping regular smokebombs at the little girl's parents with astounding effectiveness. The lieutenant wished her all the luck – Toph seemed genuinely happy and deserved all of it.

Coming to think of it, maybe he could see if he could do anything else for the girl…

And then he had to forcefully prevent his smile from turning even wider as a shadow fell on the table and a familiar, quiet, raspy voice said, without a trace of its habitual sullenness:

"Hi."

"Jin told you I came over?" Jee guessed, looking up at Zuko. The boy stood there in his teashop uniform, winter edition with longer sleeves and thicker fabric, and gazed down at the lieutenant with an expression Jee was already familiar with: the one that suggested that there was a smile hidden somewhere in there if one cared to look deep enough.

"No. I saw you."

"And decided to wait on me? How kind."

"Shut up." Zuko seemed not a tiny bit bothered by the inappropriateness of addressing a patron in such a brusque manner. The brat. "What are you having?"

"Coffee is out of the question, is it?"

"Afraid so. Uncle is a purist."

"Right." Jee scratched his cheek. "Surprise me then. Tea of the day, or something."

The smirk which graced Zuko's features couldn't exactly be called a smile, but it was close enough and Jee felt – again – a brief pang of warm pride at being the one to bring it about. It was definitely something he could work with.

On the other hand, though, the decidedly mischievous glint in Zuko's eye was a bit disconcerting.

"I'll see what can be done," muttered the boy mysteriously before he turned around and left for the kitchen, the smirk still in place.

Jee watched him until Zuko's back disappeared through the door with some trepidation – Zuko would probably make him pay for the "waiting on" comment. Oh well, too late to do anything about it now. He could just as well enjoy himself waiting. A copy of _The Times_ he grabbed on a whim earlier in the morning was resting in his bag, so he fished it out and started idly flicking through the pages, letting the teashop hubbub envelop him in a warm bubble of sound and smell.

His fears were proven correct after about fifteen minutes, when Zuko returned bearing something that – well, that could indeed be called a surprise. A very sweet-smelling, sugar brick-thick surprise. When he set the cup and saucer in front of Jee with an unsettlingly smug expression, Jee beheld what was probably the most calories-heavy tea ever created by man.

"Our winter special," the boy explained – and this time his smirk wasn't appealing at all. "Sure to warm you up. There's honey and cherries and – "

"Thank you, I don't think I want to know what else," said Jee with a sigh, eyeing the beverage before him with the utmost suspicion as though it was going to sprout legs and wander off. It smelled like it could. "It looks… horribly sweet."

"Yeah." Zuko grinned in a way that was positively mischievous. "I wouldn't put any sugar in it if I were you."

"Enjoying yourself, kiddo?"

Zuko shrugged, but his expression fooled no one. "Let me know how you liked it," he said before he marched back to the kitchen, looking to all intents and purposes like he was about to whistle.

The slimy little bastard.

Jee eyed the steamy beverage in front of him a good while before he braved a tentative sip and it took a considerable amount of willpower not to wince when it touched his palate. The damn tea was _just_ as sweet as it looked. The smell alone attacked a person's senses with a fatal dose of sugar-coated, nauseating thickness, even before the first sip exploded with saccharine on the tongue… But it was pleasantly warm, too. And the flavor, while overwhelming at first, slowly eased into something Jee could gulp down without cringing.

He took a second sip. He couldn't let the brat have this round.

So, sitting there in defiance and with his newspaper spread out, he kept on drinking the sickening syrup – in tiny, tiny sips and with long pauses in-between – and catching Zuko's eye from time to time to show how much he wasn't bothered by the prank.

Which was a pretty hilarious situation, coming to think about it. And childish. But Jee discovered that, as far as Zuko was concerned, he didn't mind a little childish every once in a while.

Iroh came over to his table at one point to inquire about Zuko's progress and invite Jee to December Music Night, Ming waved a short hello when she entered with a scrawny-looking guy Jee didn't know and a few more kids saw it fit to salute when they spotted him, but other than that, he was left in peace. He used the opportunity to glance after Zuko whenever the kid entered the room, pretending to read while in reality he followed the boy around as he worked. It was an amusing pastime; Zuko moved without a trace of the grace and assurance he displayed when he fought. Instead, he was jerky and awkward and forceful and radiated the impression that he'd rather punch the customers than serve them, which was probably true. Iroh's decision to allow the kid to wait on tables seemed incomprehensible most of the time…

But then again, the Xis's dynamics were complicated. Jee hadn't had ample opportunities to observe uncle and nephew interact, but what he did see assured him of the fact that either of them would do _anything_ for the other.

Possibly including gruesome crimes. Wouldn't be all that surprising, what with the rest of the family…

"So. How was it?"

Jee blinked and looked up. Somehow, Zuko had managed to soundlessly transport himself from the other end of the teashop to his side within seconds when Jee's thoughts were otherwise occupied.

Teenage ninja waiter indeed.

"Not bad." Jee sent him a crooked smirk. "I drank it. Not really my thing."

"Yeah." A flash of amusement sparked on the kid's face and was obliterated almost immediately when Zuko looked to the floor, clutching the notebook close to his chest.

Jee looked on as the boy's fingers started nervously drumming on it in restless rhythm. Obviously something was bothering him, but he couldn't find the right words.

And it was scary how well Jee was already acquinted with his body language.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, closing the newspaper and stuffing it back into his bag.

Zuko hesitated for a moment longer, standing rigidly by the table and abusing the poor notebook – and then, his decision made, he suddenly slid into the vacant chair across from Jee.

The lieutenant found himself glancing around to see if this unexpected gesture of familiarity attracted attention, then immediately scolded himself for it. He wasn't doing anything wrong. If Zuko wanted to talk to him, then he could and it was nobody's goddamn business.

"I've been… uh…" started the kid quietly, looking down at the table. Then, that familiar flash of determination took hold of his face. "I thought I'd go ice skating later tonight."

After a moment of silence which passed without any further clarification, Jee nodded.

"All right," he replied cautiously. "That's good. Ice skating is good. I hear the new rink up at the park is fun. And you're telling me because…?"

Zuko shot him an irritated glare before looking down again, as though Jee was being exceptionally dense and he was tired of it.

"I wouldn't mind if you came along, okay?" he murmured. The fidgeting of his fingers turned positively frantic.

…Oh.

Well, damn. A part of Jee wanted to dance and roar in triumph – the kid was actually inviting him to take part in a bonding activity that didn't involve trying to punch the other's brains out. He wanted to _spend time with Jee_. He wanted them to – and this sounded positively ludicrous in Jee's head – _have fun_. To _hang out_.

If that wasn't Jee's greatest didactic achievement, he would shave himself bald and donate the hair to charity. But, for fuck's sake…

It was impossible. As much as Jee wanted to jump at this unexpected chance, there was no fucking way he could. Already people were giving them curious sideways glances; if Zuko showed up on a rink with him for company, the rumor mill would have water on which to run for _months_. If only Zuko had been a more outgoing, friendly kid, then maybe this wouldn't have been so strange, but as it was…

It could be dangerous. Actually dangerous. And probably quite impossible to explain to a third party – _any_ third party, including Zuko's uncle.

Crap.

And here was Zuko, sitting across from him and too nervous to maintain eye-contact, waiting for an answer that would crush this budding trust, or at least damage it considerably.

Sometimes Jee really, really hated his life.

"Look." He sighed heavily, leaning towards the boy. "I want to. Honestly. Thanks. But…"

Zuko seemed to draw in on himself at the very sound of the word, already expecting rejection. Holy mother of…

Jee wasn't a huge fan of the American society at the best of times, but rarely did the system inspire him with such a wave of consuming, genuine disgust. How fucked up was the world that a teacher couldn't hang out with his student openly without raising a whole army of ugly suspicions…

… That, granted, wouldn't have been entirely unfounded in his case. But _still_.

"But," he resumed, massaging his temple wearily, "you know it wouldn't look good. People'd start talking. Asking questions. This is how this system works, kid. I'm sorry."

_I am. I really am. I'm not rejecting you. Look at me and see I'm telling the truth_.

But Zuko didn't. His head remained bowed, his pale, long fingers squeezing the notebook.

"Zuko…" It shouldn't be that hard to fight the urge to reach out and grasp that hand in his, but it was.

The kid shrugged jerkily. "It's fine," he muttered. "I get it."

"I would if I could, honestly," Jee insisted in a whisper. "But everyone in this country is paranoid. Recently they wanted to make _teachers friending students on Facebook_ illegal. How do you think they would react to –"

"I _get_ it," Zuko cut him off, looking up for the first time. The muscles of his face were drawn taut, the red scar tissue made somehow starker because of that. "I do, okay? Whatever. It's not a big deal. I guess you'll be wanting the check, right?"

Jee nodded, running an exasperated hand through his short hair.

Damn. Now he would have to find a way to repair the damage…

But it wasn't until he was driving back home that he realized he actually could. His thoughts flew back to the small lake he'd found earlier in the morning, and then he almost grinned.

It was a stupid idea. Inappropriate and unprofessional from every possible angle, not to mention potentially dangerous.

And, for once, Jee couldn't care less.

* * *

**A/N 2**: One again a huge thank you to all the readers and reviewers, I'm so glad and lucky to have you. Have a wonderful Christmas, an amazing New Year and may all your wishes come true.

Next: Jee is rebellious, Zuko asks an inappropriate question and a "Dead Poets Society" reference is made.


	15. Chapter 12: Thin Ice

**A/N**: I could use this space to justify how I hardly had any time for ficcing and that I was doing the White Lotus Lunar Year Exchange and that Real Life has been a bit of a bitch and all, but you're not interested in that, are you? So let's just get down to the story.

Thought I would be done with the winter arc in this chapter, but then the scene grew into a chapter all of its own, so nope. You are still getting wintery stuff in chapter 13.

Oh, and you might also be interested to hear that the story not only has a new "The Locker Room" chapter that was posted on AO3 and not here on due to its smutty nature, but also another fan-fanfiction written by Samalane also on AO3, entitled "In Which The Towel Drops." That should give you enough hints as to what it is about - read it, it's glorious and hot as all fuck.

And now for the chapter. For real this time.

* * *

Everything seemed to be in order. The thermos with hot cocoa rested snugly in Jee's gym bag, in a safe nest of extra warm socks; the chocolate bars were all wrapped up and probably freezing into a solid block on the passenger seat of his Ford; and the skates he borrowed from Mike the football coach waited for him in the trunk. Jee ran the list over in his mind one last time after he said goodbye to a cheerful Toph and her formidable aunt (who never bothered to return his niceties, which was all the more reason to bestow them on her), and, satisfied, walked back into the almost-empty gym, whistling a random tune.

All that remained for the crazy plan to be set in motion was to assure the cooperation of one very moody adolescent…

Who was currently standing in the middle of the gym with his arms crossed, pouting.

"Ok," he said as soon as he saw Jee walk in. "What's with the text?"

Jee tried hard not to beam. It was ridiculous to feel excited by the whole thing, but there had been a lamentable lack of excitement in his life for a long while now – or of the good kind, at least, because Zuko had provided him with plenty of excitement of a quite different sort almost from the very beginning – and he would grab what he could, dammit.

"Did you bring the skates?" he asked in lieu of a reply.

Zuko nodded reluctantly. "But I don't see the point," he muttered. "You said yourself we can't go to the public rink. People would…"

Jee held up a hand. "No more talking," he ordered. "You'll see. Get dressed, kiddo, I'll meet you by the exit in five."

And then he stalked out to change out of the tracksuit without looking back to see the kid's reaction, still whistling.

He was _enjoying_ himself. More than he probably had in months, if not years. He couldn't honestly recall the last time he had the opportunity to prepare a surprise of this magnitude for anyone, let alone a good looking lad – though _of course_ the good looking bit was completely irrelevant here. Jee found himself waiting impatiently for the kid to finally show up, anticipating the evening with an eagerness that surprised even him. The air of impropriety and shadiness hanging over the whole thing only added a pleasant spicy thrill of the forbidden, though, as far as Jee knew, what he planned wasn't strictly speaking illegal.

Which didn't mean that it was legal by extension, but it was useless to deliberate on that. The old rebellious rascal in him had reawakened and couldn't be bothered to give a damn. Jee had gone to some significant lengths to prepare the auspicious field trip – and would probably have the shit ridiculed out of him by his old Navy mates if they saw him now – but what the hell. He was going to enjoy himself tonight and that was that.

And if he could help a confused, angry kid in the process, even if it was just to take said kid's mind off the brooding for an hour or two, well then. All the better.

Besides, weren't unconventional teaching methods actually glorified in this country? In theory, at least? Just look at that Robin Williams movie, the one with poets in the title. Everyone loved it when he made the boys stand on their desks and rip out pages from their textbooks.

So there.

God, he hadn't gone ice-skating in ages. He wasn't all that sure his body was up to it. Making an idiot of himself and landing in a pile of snow was a likely possibility and he would probably ache like hell all over in the morning. But even so, at least he might give Zuko something to laugh at…

The kid needed it. Badly. Ever since the teashop he brooded around the school as though he had a clichéd cartoon stormy cloud hanging over his head.

It seemed that it had assumed a slightly lighter hue for the evening, though, and didn't roar with any more thunders, at least for the time being – Zuko's wary face as he eventually approached Jee suggested that he was putting the thunder on hold in case he needed it again soon.

Jee smiled at him. He was determined to do everything in his power to get rid of that damn cloud altogether, if only for the evening.

"Where are we going?" asked Zuko when Jee marched out at a brisk pace into the parking lot.

"You'll see. It's a surprise."

"Ri-ight." The kid sounded obnoxiously skeptical. "But we were supposed to practice those advanced katas from last week."

"We can do that anytime. Weather like this, on the other hand, is a rare treasure."

It was. The evening was perfect, crisp and glistening with white that was all fluffy and stuff – not that Jee normally used the word "fluffy" – and frosty enough to paint white puffs in the air with every breath. It was cold, very cold, but not enough to freeze their fingers and noses off over the space of two minutes.

Zuko trotted after him in silence until they reached Jee's car, upon which he decided to voice his opinion after all.

"Are you high?"

Jee almost snorted, opening the door on his side and leaning forward to let Zuko in.

Probably. He may as well be.

"No, I'm not high," he replied, clearing the passenger seat by carelessly tossing the snacks to the back. "Regrettably. Get in."

The kid did, still eyeing his teacher suspiciously. But – Jee was pleased to note – he seemed to be brightening up. Either he found the situation and Jee's bizarre behavior amusing, and rightly so, or Jee's highly uncommon enthusiasm was somehow contagious. Anyhow, still no thunders in evidence.

Good.

"You do realize the public rink in the city park is off-limits," murmured Zuko when Jee started the engine.

"Obviously. I told you that myself, didn't I?" Jee focused on the mirrors as he started pulling out of the parking lot. "You didn't tell anyone about that text, by the way, did you?"

"Duh." Now Zuko sounded as if Jee was a dense three-year-old. "Uncle doesn't even know you have my number."

"Good." Not that it was illegal to keep in touch with your students via cell phone, but Jee did feel considerable relief at those words. He exchanged numbers with Zuko the first time the kid convinced him to meet for extra training apart from their normal Thursday sessions – it seemed like a logical necessity in case any of them needed to get hold of the other quickly, to cancel or reschedule if need be. All perfectly innocent and professional. But still, it was best kept between the two of them.

Zuko's uncle may not seem like a very dangerous person, but there was _something_ about him, something that made Jee wary of crossing the man. He had no doubts that the retired major general would immediately reconsider his peaceful ways if he had an inkling of suspicion that his precious nephew might be… taken advantage of.

Jee had no idea how Iroh would react to his plans for the evening, but it was definitely safer to not have to find out.

"Nobody seemed to have seen us," murmured Jee under his breath, joining the scarce evening traffic.

"Don't think so," said Zuko. "Lieutenant, _where the fuck are you taking me?_"

There didn't seem to be any biting fury behind those words, only growing exasperation. Jee decided to take that as a good sign.

"You do know the definition of surprise, don't you?" he said lightly.

That was met with a sullen "I _hate_ surprises." Jee shot a sideways glance at the kid; Zuko was sitting with the arms crossed defensively over his chest, glowering into the dark road ahead.

"Hey." Jee tried to nudge him with his elbow. "Lighten up, kid. You'll like it."

_I hope_.

"If you're going to sulk all the way, might as well put some music on," he suggested after a while of stubborn silence on his right. "Go on, pick something."

"You're not turning on the radio?"

"So they can torment us with _Last Christmas _on a loop? Hell no."

Zuko murmured his grudging assent and started digging in the hold by his legs for something that wouldn't be manically cheerful or containing jingling bells or George Michael. Not that he'd find anything like that in Jee's car. When eventually he chose to play the CD Jee had originally lent him, the older man couldn't help but smile.

No more questions were asked for the remainder of the longish ride and Jee didn't press for more conversation, mindful of the brat's moods. He had become quite adept at reading them and was content to let Zuko sit there in silence while the music transformed it into something mildly approaching cozy. Sometimes, silence was good. There was no need to fill every longer pause with mindless prattle and, for all his faults, Zuko was a pretty good companion to share silences with when he wasn't in one of his fits.

Which it seemed that he wasn't for the moment. There was hope yet.

All in all, what with the music, the boy settling into a silence next to him and the admittedly gorgeous snowscape they sped through once they passed the lamp-lit city boundaries, it was a rather enjoyable ride. Jee almost wished it had lasted longer. Something about the silent twilight painted bright with the generous brush of snow, the thickening walls of trees fencing the road only to reveal vast open spaces tinted with lights of habitation here and there, and the illusion of solitude, shattered only briefly whenever another car passed them on the way, was relaxing.

But then again, he had the ride back to look forward to. Not to mention the main event of the evening.

And the closer they got to the nature park, the more impatient he was to see Zuko's face.

As it turned out, most of the kid's annoyance had evaporated during the ride to be replaced by curiosity. Jee gathered it by Zuko's tone when, as they slowed down and turned right into a deserted forest dirt road, he murmured:

"Taking me out into the woods? Are you going to rape and murder me here, Lieutenant?"

Jee smirked into the night he was slicing through with his headlights.

"Murdering isn't really my style," he said. "I believe in saving some for later. Besides, now I should deliver a didactic scolding on the wrongness of making rape jokes. Do you need one, Xi?"

Out of the corner of his eye he detected a movement which indicated that Zuko had looked away from him; but he did catch a soft, almost inaudible "Wouldn't be rape."

And then he found it very, very hard not to feel something inappropriate.

Luckily, they were almost there now, so any awkwardness that lay inherent in the moment could be skipped by Jee pretending to be too busy parking to catch that last sentence. It was all for the best. Some light flirtation was fine from time to time, but he couldn't allow Zuko any more openings for more serious… advances.

No matter how much he may have wanted to.

"We're here," he announced rather unnecessarily as the Ford settled neatly into one of the few spots that wasn't a huge-ass pile of snow. "The St. Jerome Nature Park. It's going to be a bit of a hike from here, so get your stuff and put on extra socks if you've got them."

He got out of the car without waiting for Zuko to follow and started collecting his own equipment. First the food from the backseat, then the skates from the trunk. He dug out the flashlights while his partner in crime was busy pulling on extra layers of clothing, and he tossed one at Zuko when the kid finally crawled out of the car.

"Here," he said, locking the car. "So you can chase away the demons of the forest."

Zuko apparently decided not to grace that with a response, but he did raise his eyebrow at Jee. Then, he directed the stream of light from the flashlight straight at his teacher's face.

"You must have been smoking _something_," he stated, lips turning into a smirk. "But whatever. Now what?"

"Now, you follow me. Try not to get lost. And no more smart-assing."

With that, Jee set out across the snow, his own flashlight casting a hectic glow over the path he'd already checked last night when he drove over to see if the lake had frozen into a solid enough surface. The light wasn't really necessary – it was bright enough even without it, what with the moon nice and huge and the sky full of stars and the snow making everything so much brighter, but still, better safe than sorry. There weren't any lamps in the nature park.

The snow and ice crunching beneath their boots, the frost digging into their faces and seeping into skin, the darkness kept at bay with the dancing beams from their flashlights, the two of them made their way in silence, one following the other, until Jee caught the familiar glimpse of frozen water behind the black, leafless trees.

"We're here!" he called out over his shoulder, seeking out a bench he'd found earlier. "Dig out those skates."

He carefully picked his way over to the bench, got rid of the snow covering it, then sat down heedless of the damp and pulled out his own borrowed pair. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Zuko standing by the bench – the boy was curiously running the flashlight over the pond, his expression closed and vague just like it usually got when the boy's head was plagued with too many thoughts at once.

Or at least by Jee's guess, which was only slightly better than anybody else's.

"We're going to skate _here_?" came the quiet question, slow and cautious as though the brat didn't quite know what to make of all this.

"No, we're going to bake s'mores and sing Kumbaya. What do you think?"

"Is it allowed?"

Jee shrugged, tying the skates. They were a little too big, but hopefully not enough to impair his skating prowess. Which at this point was probably nonexistent anyway.

God, he was such a great big moron. A part of him couldn't believe what the other part was doing. If the parts were person-shaped, the first one would be delivering snide comments from the sidelines while the stupid one ignored it and stuck out its tongue.

"Don't see why it wouldn't," he said, ignoring the temporary personality crisis. "The ice is solid, I checked. No one is likely to come here. Are you going to join me or what?"

"Why are you doing all this?" Zuko's voice was soft, hesitant. And strangely small. As though he couldn't believe why anyone apart from his uncle would do anything nice for him. Which… well, which only assured Jee that this had been a good decision.

"I was bored. Wanted to try something new. You suggested it." He looked up from the bench at Zuko, trying to ignore the cold damp that was already seeping into his pants. "Don't you want to anymore?"

In lieu of a response, Zuko finally made his way to the bench and started putting on his own skates without a word – but he did glance up at Jee once, a timid, raw sort of look that carried such a wealth of unspoken emotion that it hit Jee like a punch in the face, but of the sort that hurt for entirely different reasons.

He had never met anyone who would wear their emotions out in the open like that and be this secretive at the same time. It was clear the kid was struggling with a violent onslaught of different feelings, but it was impossible to tell what they were.

More than anything, it made Jee want to just go ahead and kiss the brat. Worse, he found it increasingly hard to find sufficient reasons to resist those urges.

Which was only further proof that he had never fully grown out of his 'Fuck The System' phase. It was exactly what prompted him to organize this outing in the first place, after all.

It didn't occur to him that the brat might misread the whole situation and treat it as something entirely different from what it was intended to be, right until that look – and when the thought finally materialized, it was too late to do anything about it. Jee could only press on and deal with another potential fuck-up as it developed.

Zuko tied his skates on in silence – a modern-looking, gleaming, showy pair, black and red, _of course_ they would be black and red – and carefully made his way onto the ice, tentatively shifting his weight onto the frozen surface without looking over his shoulder at Jee. Perhaps he didn't trust his own face not to betray too much, and it was this realization, more than anything else, that helped Jee put his pang of anxiety aside and focus on the main goal of the evening.

He was here to help someone. And he would damn well do his best.

He stood up on legs that wobbled a little too much for his liking, then took a couple of careful steps towards the water where Zuko was already getting warmed up, the ice creaking under the blades when he began on a circle around the pond.

It felt weird. The blades were digging into his soles rather uncomfortably and the shoes really were too big – he had way more room for his feet than he was used to. And damn, he was having trouble keeping his balance. Given how often he used to do that back home when he was a kid, that was not a little humiliating.

He refused to lean on a tree for support before getting on the ice, though – his pride wouldn't let him. He couldn't let an adolescent see his temporary weakness and then tease him for being an old cripple.

By the time he finally did reach the ice Zuko was already on his second circle, getting more and more confident as he sped past Jee with surprising grace. His ice-skating was marked by the same inner, hardly-contained violence of feeling that characterized Zuko's every other action, but as Jee watched, the kid was beginning to let loose just a little bit, the movements of his arms getting more fluid, his legs striking the ice with less force as he slid across the surface in a way that looked surprisingly effortless.

Great. Now Jee was going to end up looking exactly like an old cripple by comparison.

Not that he cared.

"You're pretty good," he said, pushing himself forward just to get the familiar feeling of being on the ice back into his flesh memory. His muscles were slowly remembering the drift, thank God.

"Thanks!" the brat called out, speeding away confidently, leaving a distinct trail on the fragile, glimmering surface. The sound of his skates hitting the ice rhythmically resounded rather nicely in the dark, dark silence all around them. "Are you just going to stand there like that all night?"

Well, look at that. Someone was getting cheeky. Good. That meant that the plan was already working.

"You just wait," Jee shouted back, slowly getting into the old, familiar motions that his body now decided it remembered. "I'll show you how we do it in Minnesota."

"You're from Minnesota?" Zuko was far away now, on the opposite bank, but his voice carried rather easily over the frozen water. Jee set out after him, enjoying the crusty sound the skates made as they cut through the ice.

"Yeah, and?"

Zuko turned over so that he was skating backwards facing Jee, the smug little show-off. "Nothing!" he called out with a smirk that was very visible despite the distance, the beam from his flashlight jumping all over the place. "It's just that I'd expect a Minnesota guy to know his way around the ice a little better!"

Oh, so now it was a challenge, eh? Very well. Jee'd be damned twice over before he let a bratty adolescent tease him on his own territory.

He sped up, his legs much more confident now that they had a little time to adjust, and chased after Zuko, who also accelerated as soon as he caught on to the situation, no longer facing Jee. The game was on.

Zuko was good, better than Jee was willing to admit, and he moved across the ice as confidently as he did on the training mats back at the gym, but Jee had been doing this every winter of his childhood since he was big enough to go out into the snow on his own. He would not be outdone by some pampered California brat and that was that.

"Where did you learn to skate like that, kid?" he asked on a curve, having barely missed catching Zuko by the sleeve of his huge, expensive-looking jacket; the brat pulled away at the last minute, gracefully swerving to the side.

"I travel a lot" was the shouted explanation, as if that explained anything; Zuko's voice was hoarse now and a little breathless as he sped away, having only barely avoided landing in a heap of snow. Jee followed him, reaching out again to catch the brat in the strange, spontaneous game of tag they seemed to have fallen into without any kind of prompting.

It felt… nice.

"You need to be faster, old man!" Zuko shouted at him, looking over his shoulder with something that was definitely more smile than smirk and damn, if it didn't make Jee feel proud as all hell.

"I'm going easy on you, rookie!" he shouted right back with a grin of his own, feeling lighter and better than he had in months. So maybe the temperature was dropping drastically now and Jee's sideburns were probably frozen solid; his nose was running like a holey drainpipe, too, and more than once he went faster than he intended, having to fight for control before he skated himself into a heap of snow on the bank. None of it mattered, though. Not even the strain in his legs and back which promised him a very rough wake-up call in the morning. He hadn't been on the ice in ages and he had missed it subconsciously, he must have had, and it was a strange little thing to realize.

It was probably the simplicity of it all. Just like in every other sport, but better because there wasn't even a clear aim to go for – there was only the frozen space, without any rules or regulations, and when you were on it, nothing else mattered but the sheer exhilaration of speed. The only thing Jee could compare it to was driving, or better yet, riding a motorcycle. And when there was nobody else around, when there was no danger of tripping someone over and no need for endless, tedious zigzagging between agonizingly slow bodies…

Oh yes. Speed. Speed was good.

Apparently, Zuko thought so too – he remained just slightly out of reach, the little bastard, turning this way and that whenever Jee got close enough to get a grip on him, and he was enjoying himself too, that much was as clear as the moonlight reflected off the snow. He was trying to taunt Jee – and that was quite hilarious because Zuko was _the worst_ at taunting – turning over his shoulder every once in a while with a grin so wide that it looked almost alien on that ever-frowning face, his cheeks red and frost-bitten, his lips chapped, his hair messy, his eyes bright and gleaming and Christ, he looked absolutely fucking adorable. Jee wanted to kiss him.

He wasn't sure how much time they spent there just pointlessly chasing each other, shouting stupid taunts and challenges, speeding up and slowing down and practically dancing around each other in that unspoken agreement that Zuko would never speed away too fast and Jee would not actually _try_ to grab him, not sooner than necessary anyway. Maybe an hour, maybe fifteen minutes. It didn't matter. And especially not when he actually heard something that could only be a chuckle, or even an actual burst of strange-sounding, strangled laughter when at one point he swore and flailed his hands a bit in a decidedly undignified manner after Zuko escaped his grasp rather violently and consequently tipped Jee off-balance.

He made the brat laugh. He actually made the brat laugh. If that didn't land him the title of the Most Awesome Epic Badass Teacher of the Year, nothing would.

So what if it was at his expense. His pride could take that one blow and his inner Minnesota patriot would just have to suck it up.

And as he chased after the ever-elusive boy, his thoughts flew back to their conversation in the Jasmine Dragon. The memory prompted a new, fresh wave of rebellious indignation that washed over him with a sudden warmth that had nothing to do with pleasant fluffy feelings but a lot to do with the contrariness embedded deep into his nature. _Look at the poor fuck_, he thought, watching Zuko grin at him over his shoulder as he baited Jee into following him by slowing down just a tad, only to speed away again as soon as Jee picked up the pace. _Just look at him. He is happy. This is good for him_.

Zuko was more easy-going and relaxed than in all the months Jee had known him; and it was in a situation most people would regard inappropriate and condemnable without even bothering to bat a single eyelash. If anyone walked in on them right now there would be screaming and accusations and righteous indignation and maybe even a court case, just because what Zuko needed happened to be slightly at odds with the society's definition of proper. And just what _was_ society anyway? What right did they have to dictate how human beings should interact with one another? If it were up to them, Zuko would just steam and simmer in his consuming rage until the bitterness got the better of him and prompted him to do something stupid, just as it would have happened to Jee if not for some lucky incidents which took place at just the right time.

And who was to say that Jee couldn't be a lucky incident to happen to Zuko? The kid needed one, that much was obvious. And it did seem like it was the right time. So maybe…

Besides, since when did Jee care about that vague, abstract concept that was the society? It was nothing. Just a set of unspoken rules that people broke all the time anyway, that meant nothing, that only served to preserve what was a ridiculous lifestyle to begin with.

It wasn't only that, of course – there was the very tangible threat of prison to consider, too. And a billion other things that would be messy, complicated and hard to deal with if he were to give in in the end. But there was a voice in him now, nagging louder and louder every time he nearly caught Zuko by the sleeve…

_Supposing you don't get caught? What other reasons not to can you think of? Which exactly is the lesser wrong here?_

God, he was getting old. He had gotten sucked right into the whole machine without even realizing it. He had grown stagnate. Comfortable. And actually gave a damn about what some faceless bunch of bastards thought of him.

Of course he had grown enough now to know that the sort of rebellion his teenage self advocated was ridiculous and led to absolutely nothing. Looking back sometimes, he couldn't believe the sort of things he used to think, what an arrogant, gullible, delusional fuck he'd been. Eventually life taught him otherwise, often quite brutally, and he'd learned to go with the flow most of the time; it wasn't the perfect solution, but it landed him in significantly less trouble than his previous attitude. In all that time, he had grown to believe that yes, the system was pretty fucked up, but there was nothing he could do about it, so the best he could do was to float with the current as best he could and try to avoid the more jarring absurdities.

Now, though, with a very confused, angry boy skating away from him and grinning because of something Jee had done against the rules, he felt the familiar stirrings of years-old anger and denial bubble up to the surface again.

Zuko needed him. And Jee could go on trying to help him in such simple, half-assed ways, but in the end taking him ice-skating after dark would not shield Zuko from the hurt and disappointment that was still in store for him; would not guarantee a safe passage through the stormy seas of an adolescent sexuality crisis. Building trust, yes, that was all well and good. Necessary.

But just what was Jee planning to achieve once he had gained it? _Help the brat_ was a very vague concept now that he thought about it, and as he sped after Zuko, he realized he had no idea how he wanted to achieve that without giving Zuko what the kid so obviously wanted.

He had no idea what the hell he was doing anymore.

It was with that chilling thought that the specific kind-of dance they had been indulging in suddenly took a different turn – Jee reached out once again, absent-mindedly this time, deep in his dark thoughts, and was surprised to discover that his fingers actually closed over solid matter.

He caught Zuko. Whether it was because the boy let him, he would never know, but suddenly he was pulling the brat towards him, Zuko's back hitting his chest as he wrapped triumphant arms around him from behind, and Zuko was struggling but it was obviously a half-assed effort, and he was making little choked noises that could actually be laughter.

"Got you," Jee said, pulling the brat even closer, his arms wrapping around him even tighter, his head bowing down to rest on Zuko's slightly damp woolen hat.

And then Zuko stopped struggling. Instead, he pressed himself up against Jee even closer, his head falling back, his hands going up to close over Jee's.

"Yeah," he uttered softly. "Looks like it."

…Okay, so now they were hugging. There was no other word for it. He was hugging Zuko from behind and the brat was not only letting him – he was returning it. Which wasn't really surprising, given how it was Zuko who initiated the whole damned mess, and Jee should let him go now, he should find a way to diffuse the mood that was now developing as surely and inevitably as a continental drift… But he didn't want to. And not only that, but he also had a hard time convincing himself that that was indeed the right thing to do. Because – well, was it? All things considered? Who would really benefit from Jee constantly pushing Zuko away? He used to think that it was for the boy's own good, but now – now he wasn't so sure anymore.

Not to mention that _he_ certainly did not benefit from that continued denial.

God, he was so frustrated, and it felt so _good_ to hold Zuko like that…

Zuko was an unstable boy. Probably clinically depressed, and if not, then surely full of unresolved issues that almost certainly warranted professional therapy if only the boy permitted such a thing, which Jee was sure he didn't. He wasn't exactly the best judge of his own needs and feelings, especially not in a situation such as this one that had the potential to turn very ugly very fast. Jee should not – _could_ not – see his consent as something granted, something unquestionable, and he could _not_ treat it as justification for giving in to his own lust. That was something he could not lose sight of, whatever steps he was going to take next.

But he was hurting the boy either way. He _knew_ that. He had been in a similarly dark place himself, after all – he could imagine all the things going through Zuko's head even if he did not know the reasons behind them. Rejection, dashed hopes, the bitter sting of being pushed away, of having his already shaky self-confidence trampled on, were all things he was only too well acquainted with. To be aware that he had been doing it all to Zuko, all this time, was painful and made him feel like a right old bastard, little better than Zhao. And it did not help that he was doing it all to save the kid.

Because… _was_ he saving him? And from what? Was his restraint really helping anyone?

He used to believe, even back there in Zuko's bedroom when he had him in his lap and was kissing the living daylights out of him, that he could tell with a significant dose of certainty which was the lesser wrong. It had seemed clear. The boundaries and limitations obvious, the possible damage bright and glaring at him. But the more Jee thought about it, the more time he spent with Zuko, the more he saw of the boy and how he reacted to Jee…

It could have been a different man, Jee realized with a pang of dread. Someone who wouldn't have any qualms of taking advantage of a confused boy's attraction, someone who would use him and then leave him and not bother to do any teaching, any guiding. If Zuko felt drawn to Jee, then who was to say he couldn't feel a similar attraction to other older men?

It could have been someone like Zhao. Or Gibbs. Someone who didn't care about the damage they inflicted. And Zuko would not be able to defend himself against them – he was tough, but not in a way that would shield him from such psychological catastrophe. The boy's emotions were raw and out in the open, exposed like a throbbing nerve, and there were people out there who delighted in trampling all over such vulnerable honesty. Such men could _crush_ Zuko. Perhaps beyond repair.

And if Jee kept rejecting him, Zuko _would_ turn to someone else sooner or later, someone who could only deepen the hurt. Providing he wouldn't shut himself away from people completely, which was just as likely and exactly as damaging.

The thought made Jee tighten his arms around the boy protectively before he even realized what he was doing.

He was not naïve or conceited enough to believe that _he_ was the perfect choice for Zuko. That would be a laughable sentiment. In many ways he was probably just as fucked up, even if age and experience gave him an edge over the boy. But he was _not_ malicious. He could watch over the kid in his most vulnerable moments and make sure that his sexual awakening was safe and pleasurable. Jee could teach him how to feel confident about something other than his fighting skills, how to explore physicality with someone he could trust, who would never abuse him, who would _care_. He could teach him how to relax, to let go. How to feel safe.

He _could_ make it good. Maybe that was exactly what Zuko needed.

Or he could make everything so much worse.

Shit, he didn't know. He honestly didn't know. The only thing he _did_ know was that he was holding Zuko in his arms and it felt good, and he wasn't feeling like letting go.

"Hey," he heard a raspy whisper as the head he was resting his own against moved, pressing itself sideways into his chest. Zuko's breath was louder now, quicker, puffs of hot air dissolving in the frosty night. "You okay, coach?"

No. He was not okay. He could see Zuko's healthy ear peeking out from under the hat and black hair, and the pale cheek painted rosy by the frost, and a hint of neck under the scarf, and he wanted to kiss it, all of it. Wanted to feel the cold skin turn warm again under the pressure of his chapped lips. He wanted…

It would have happened. He would have done it. His mouth was moving closer and closer to the shell of Zuko's ear even as the furious battle of _pros_ and _againsts_ raged on in Jee's head, and Zuko must have detected the movement because he was this close to panting, tilting his head even further to the left and exposing more skin to Jee, perhaps even unconsciously. He was _excited_, he wanted it to happen just as badly and shit, Jee _would_ have done it because fuck it all, they didn't have to get caught after all and there was a wealth of stuff he could teach Zuko that way and he was _so damned tired_ of denying himself and he would have taken that one step to cross the line – if not for a sound that jolted them both awake and froze the blood right in their veins.

The sound of breaking ice.

"Shit," Zuko swore, petrified into perfect stillness just as Jee was. "Now what?"

Jee risked a glance around, shifting one of his arms painfully slowly out of the embrace so that he could aim the flashlight at their feet. There it was – a crack, tiny for now, zigzagging like a jagged bolt of lightning from right under Zuko's ice-skates.

Damn, they must have stayed in one place for two long. Their twin weights combined pressing into the same spot must have been too much. They needed to move away from there as soon as possible before more cracks appeared or this one turned larger…

"Okay," Jee whispered, leaning into Zuko's ear. "You jump as far away from this spot as you can when I tell you to. Try to aim for that pile of snow on the bank right behind us. Got it?"

"What? No!" Zuko tried to move, but Jee firmly held him in place. "What about you?"

"I'll be right behind!" Jee hissed. "Just calm down and do as I say. It's not too bad yet, but it will be if we stay here any longer."

He held the brat down for as long as it took to calm him down; by the time another crack jumped to life with an ominous sound, no doubt sparked to life by Zuko's tensing.

The kid could really be a damned idiot sometimes.

"Right," Jee breathed once he felt Zuko still in his grip again. "Good. Ready? On my mark, one, two, three – "

He was gearing himself up to push the brat away from him to give him an extra boost, but he was _not_ prepared for what actually happened at the count of three. Zuko, that fucking stubborn little critter, turned around in his arms in a flash and instead pushed at Jee with so much concentrated force that it was enough to land the man in the very pile he wanted to help Zuko get to – though part of it could have been sheer surprise, as all of it happened in less than a blink. Before Jee knew it, he was lying on his back, his upper body on the snowy bank, his legs spread gracelessly on the frozen water, the flashlight he had dropped landing somewhere next to him, and there were cracks resounding in the quiet night, and Zuko was still standing there, the _idiot_ –

The brat jumped at what seemed like the very last moment, just when the ice started to break in earnest under his feet. Jee reached out almost on instinct and pulled him close trying to cushion the fall, both of them breathing hard.

It wasn't a big hole – just enough to drown a squirrel, maybe, or a slightly larger wood animal, but not to swallow a growing teenager of Zuko's bulk. Still, it could have been much larger if Zuko hadn't jumped away in time, and it certainly would have been dangerous if it was Jee who stayed behind.

Which didn't make Zuko's insane strategy any better.

"What the fuck," Jee wheezed, pressing the boy close, "did you think you were doing, you crazy bastard? Why didn't you just listen to me?"

"Are you nuts?" Zuko pulled himself up a little to look Jee in the eye. "I'm not going to let anyone put themselves in danger for me. You're heavier. You would've made it worse. The pressure would've been even bigger."

Jee shook his head at him, eyes wide. The brat was un-fucking-believable. "And what exactly do you think would happen if you were harmed in any way?" he grumbled. "I'd be in a shitload of trouble with basically everyone."

Zuko sniffed and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve. "Still better than being dead and frozen. Trying to help you out of that lake would've been _hard._

"And anyway, I knew you'd save me if I fell," he added quietly after a pause, glancing behind him at the spot of broken ice. "I wasn't afraid."

… Well.

"I'm beginning to think you don't know what the word means," murmured Jee, reaching out to ruffle the kid's hat a bit, then pulled him closer again. Impossible, the brat was. Utterly impossible. "Have you ever _been_ afraid, kiddo?"

Zuko looked up at him then, eyebrow furrowed in a hard frown, eyes bright even in the snow-lighted darkness – and even through the layers and layers of clothing Jee could feel how tense he was. But then he lowered his head on the man's chest, clung to him and quietly whispered, "Yeah."

There was history behind that one word, Jee was sure of it. Connected to the scar, maybe? To his family? It was impossible to tell, but the fact that Zuko chose to trust him enough to admit his own fear was astonishing on its own, so much so that Jee filed it away to ponder later.

He allowed them a moment to just stay like that, simply holding the boy close and breathing – Zuko's weight felt more comfortable resting on him than he was willing to admit. However, it wasn't quite enough to make him forget about the coldness in the air and the snow, which was now seeping into his clothes and turning them into a damp mess. They needed to get up now if they didn't want to catch something nasty out here.

"That's enough fun for one evening," he grunted eventually, trying to prop himself up on his elbow and thus give Zuko a hint to kindly get himself off of Jee. "Time to head back. I have some hot cocoa waiting for us in the car."

Zuko complied, rolling himself to the side and right into the snow. He was a mess of white fluff within seconds and Jee had to bite back a chuckle, glancing at him as he struggled to his feet – it was a pretty hilarious picture and oddly sweet at that. The brat was _not_ sweet – most of the time he could serve as a textbook definition of anti-sweet – but he did have the occasional moment when he could almost pass for cute and this evening proved that without a shadow of a doubt.

It proved a lot of other things as well, but apparently Zuko didn't feel like addressing that for the time being and neither did Jee. They made their shaky way around the lake to the bench where they had left their boots – Jee firmly put his foot down when Zuko suggested they just skate across, they didn't need to take any more unnecessary risks and that was that – and it was a very silent trek, filled with heavy breaths and the crunching of snow under the blades of their skates and not much more.

It remained like that all the way back to the car. Jee got the engine running as they settled into their seats just to get the heat back into their bones before they set off, and tossed the thermos with hot cocoa at Zuko, who accepted without a word. The thermos was Jee's old trusted friend and lived up to the task this time around, too, keeping the drink warm just as it was supposed to. The sweet liquid felt heavenly as it spread down his throat; they enjoyed it in silence, both of them, Jee refilling the small plastic cups until they ran out. He then offered Zuko the chocolate bar and this, too, was consumed in silence, one that didn't feel uncomfortable at all, just – natural.

Almost companionable. Almost, because what happened out there on the ice before it started to give way could not be pushed away that easily.

It was clear that Zuko needed the space to think about it and, went it came down to it, so did Jee.

However, if the lieutenant allowed himself to hope for a second that his companion would not allude to his slip-up and the hug that night, those hopes were dashed once they got on the road again.

"So," murmured Zuko, clearing his throat as he was wont to do before starting a conversation he felt awkward about, "what was that about? Back there?"

Jee stopped himself from groaning, but it took a considerable effort. His eyes never leaving the dark road spreading ahead, the music idly playing to cover up the discomfort, he tried to look for the right words and failed.

"I wish I knew, kid," he finally confessed, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. "I'm sorry."

Zuko was silent for a while, a pattern Jee was already familiar with – the brat needed time to get his thoughts together in any difficult conversation and that was a _damn hard_ conversation if Jee ever had one.

"So you do want me," he whispered finally and Jee tensed even more. "Still."

There was no bluffing his way out of this one. Not after everything.

"Yeah," Jee admitted grudgingly, hoping against hope that the music would muffle it. It didn't.

"And what are you going to do about it?" Zuko asked after another pause; Jee refused to glance over to him, but he was fairly certain that he had a pair of golden eyes set firmly on him, and he could imagine the intensity of the gaze very vividly as it burned through.

Nothing but honesty would do now. Zuko would doubtlessly detect any attempts at dodging that that would be it. And at the end of the day, Jee simply did not have the answers.

"There is nothing I can say to that, Zuko," he said in a low voice. "I am sorry. I just – I don't know."

Another pause, longer and so much more loaded, during which Jee wished fervently for the power to just open up Zuko's head and peek inside into his thoughts. It would clear up a whole fucking lot.

But the brat remained silent for a good long while, probably mulling over everything that had happened, and opened his mouth again only after they passed the stupidly cheerful _WELCOME TO SUMMERFIELD_ board.

"You should come to Music Night next week," he said quietly.

"What?" That was probably the last thing Jee expected to hear.

"Next Saturday. You should. It will be… uh, there will be something. A surprise. You might be interested."

"Um… All right." It wasn't as if he had anything else to do next weekend, and if Zuko thought he should…

So did it mean the previous conversation was dropped? That was – surprising to say the least. Zuko was not the type to let things go just like that, especially not when it came to Jee. So next week's Christmas Music Night must be significant in some way.

Curious.

"Anyway, thanks," said Zuko when they drove into downtown, the brightness of the Asian district a stark contrast to the darkness of the nature park. "That was… fun."

"You have a strange definition of _fun_," replied Jee, lips curling up into a smirk.

"Maybe." Zuko's voice sounded lighter now which was both relieving and slightly disturbing. "But still. Thanks."

"You're welcome, kid."

He owed the kid more, much more, he knew that, but he had no idea what else could be said that would help. He needed time. A lot of time. He needed to get his thoughts in order, he needed to separate the legitimate worries and concerns and benefits from his own wishful thinking, he needed to sort himself – and Zuko – out and decide yet again where they could go from here. He could not do any of that in the space it took them to reach the Jasmine Dragon.

Winter break could not come soon enough.

"So," said Zuko when Jee pulled up by the teashop. "This is it, then?"

Jee nodded, massaging his tired eyes. God, he felt so drained…

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Saturday," Zuko replied quietly in a voice that sounded strangely tense. "Be there. Promise you'll come."

"All right, I promise, but why –"

Zuko didn't wait to hear the rest of the question. He got out, took the backpack out of the backseat and was gone with a click of the car door shutting close.

* * *

**A/N 2**: As usual, thank you so much for all the support and reviews and favs and follows. It makes me insanely proud and keeps the story alive. Not to mention all the newborn turtleducklings.

Next chapter will bring you a certain Revelation, Jee going to a counselor and a party. Till then!


	16. Chapter 13: The Lesser Wrong

**A/N**: This is the chapter for which you can get your champagne. I won't say anything more other than it may still seem rough, because it was finished and edited in a hurry to get it out of the way before I plunge myself fully into thesis-writing, and I apologize for any snags I may have missed. Also, it's LONG. As in, over 14k long. So grab a tea or something, k?

A HUGE thank you to the amazing Princebender brainstorming group who helped shape a lot of this chapter, down to the details.

Enjoy.

* * *

Jee should have known this would not go down well. It had no right to. And he knew the kid found the whole Christmas Music Night important for some mysterious reason he chose not to share, but he honestly didn't expect the face Zuko made when Jee mentioned that he might possibly not make it.

He looked like Jee had just kicked over a whole box of meowing kittens.

"What do you mean?" he asked. His good eye narrowed. It was never a good sign.

Jee stood his ground, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't feel good with what he'd just said, but if there was anything important going on with that damned event then Zuko could tell him, dammit. There was no need for all that ridiculous secrecy.

"I mean exactly what I said. Some of my old friends invited me over," he repeated firmly, ready to match Zuko glare for glare and gearing himself up for a shouting act. It would be a pity to have to endure one after the lake, but Zuko's short fuse was legendary at Flowing Creek after all. He was a fool to expect this to go peacefully. "And it would be nice to spend Christmas with them. People do have friends, Zuko. I'm considering it."

"But you promised!" For a moment, Zuko's good eye widened in a spell of plain uncommon desperation and Jee felt a stab of guilt, but refused to yield just like that. "You promised you'd come to the teashop!"

"I'm well aware of that," Jee replied, bending down to pick up his stuff and throwing them to the gym bag. His voice was getting tense. That wouldn't do. He needed to stay calm. "But the invitation's come up. These things do happen, kiddo. I'll probably go _unless_ you convince me that I should stay by telling me what's so important about this Saturday."

Oh, hello there. The glower was back on with full force, joined by balled fists and flexing muscles.

"I shouldn't have to convince you," the brat spit out, rigid with anger that was just unwarranted. "You promised! That should be enough!"

"So you want me to stay here for the entire winter break for no reason other than you want me to attend one event," Jee summed up with growing irritation. "And you won't even tell me why."

"If you won't keep your word then maybe it's not worth having you there after all." Zuko started stomping around the gym, picking up his things as well. If Jee was any judge, he was close to popping a vein.

Right. He was prepared to deal with the brat's more volatile moods, had been ever since he decided on the private lessons, but this was getting ridiculous.

"Just tell me, for God's sake," he gruffed out, picking up the bag. "What's the big deal? Why is it so important to you?"

"It just is, all right?!" Zuko shouted at him. "Or was. There is a reason. But I'm not even sure I want you to know anymore. Just forget it. Go fly to Minnesota or wherever."

Oh for crying out loud…

"Zuko." Jee grabbed the kid's elbow when he tried to stomp past, into the locker rooms. They were both sweaty from training and Jee's hand slid a little, down to Zuko's forearm. "What. Is. The deal?"

"Other than wanting someone to keep their promise?" The brat snarled at him, trying to wrench his arm free. Violently. "Just let me go. Fuck off! Do whatever the fuck you want!"

Jee did let go of his arm then, if only because for a moment he feared that if he didn't, Zuko would bite his fingers off. He watched him go, feeling anger boiling close to the surface, but even closer was the shame he absolutely didn't want to admit he felt.

He'd never been one for sticking to his promises. He had never met a man who would be. Until now.

Christ, he'd fucked up again, hadn't he, and just when things were going so well… But he really didn't understand. And he didn't fancy sitting around in Summerfield through Christmas while the idiots that called themselves his friends boozed and gossiped and enjoyed good, home-cooked feasts without him. Was it really so bad to consider it?

Of course he could always fly over to Shun's after the damned Music Night. Which was an option neither of them considered until it was too late and the fuck-up had already happened.

Typical.

He didn't drive Zuko home that night – when he knocked on the locker room after he'd changed in the office, the brat was already gone.

0000000000

"Jee, you're in some deep shit."

Jee frowned, his finger pausing on the remote mid-press.

"No I'm not," he said immediately, and realized only too late that perhaps it would be a good idea to try and _not _sound automatically defensive. "What the fuck gave you that idea?"

He heard Shun sigh at the other end of the connection and it only made him frown harder. He detested that sigh. It was condescending and made him feel like a stubborn, moronic twelve-year-old.

"I know you," his friend said in a tone of saintly patience put to the test. "I know how you get when you're in trouble. You sound exactly like you did when the Gibbs affair was going on, right before you decided to kick yourself out."

"I don't sound like anything, you idiot," Jee protested on principle, swearing inwardly.

"Just tell me what you've done this time, man," Shun insisted. "You're in trouble again. I can hear it. You'd tell me why you're not coming otherwise. So just get on with it, I'm not going to hang on the phone forever."

"Then don't because there is nothing to tell." Jee changed his position on the couch, flipping his legs up over the armrest and stretching them. They were talking about the Middle East on CNN again, not that he paid any attention.

"For fuck's sake, Jee. You and your stupid pride. I'm not going to tell anyone, you _know_ that, and maybe I could help."

Now it was Jee's turn to sigh. "You can't," he grumbled, shutting his eyes. "It's my mess. I can't tell you."

Honestly, how did a conversation which was only started because Jee wanted to tell his friend he wasn't flying over after all, and which then degenerated largely into Shun whining about his wife, turn into _that_?

His friend was silent for a long moment. It was a foreboding pause. Jee didn't like it one bit. "Well, at least you admitted it," he said at long last, just as Jee took up channel-surfing again. "Fine, I'm not going to press you for information, but just… if there's anything…"

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, man."

Shun was a good man. Someone who could be relied on to always be there for his mates. And he respected their privacy, which was invaluable. But there was no fucking way Jee would ever tell him about Zuko. Not him, not anyone. And especially not now that his thoughts on the matter were such a goddamn mess.

There was nothing Shun could do that would help, except maybe yell at Jee for even considering it in the first place. Which Jee was. Every night since the ice-skating. And just now in the shower. Vigorously.

Hair still damp and dripping down the back of his neck, he massaged his forehead and eyes, swallowing down a groan. And tried hard not to think that there could have been a handsome boy with him right now, snuggled up to him on the sofa, who could kiss the weariness away. Imagining such things while knowing that the only reason it wasn't so was because Jee refused to let it be only led to more frustration.

"Don't wait until you fuck up royally," Shun said, though the dark tone of his voice implied that he already suspected Jee would do just that. "Call as soon as you need anything. You still have pals around here. People remember. We can help."

"Good luck with your wife," Jee murmured; he didn't want to admit that he was oddly touched by that sentiment.

People remembered, huh? Well then. That was good to hear, even if anyone who actually knew what had been going on back then didn't do jack shit to help Jee or the poor bastards who suffered because Gibbs couldn't keep his grabby paws to himself.

Jee understood. It wasn't as if little men like him actually had a real voice. People wanted to keep their jobs. That was normal. No one wanted to get involved in anything too ugly and after all, Jee only didn't look the other way because he suffered from a temporary spell of noble insanity.

But it was good to hear that there were people who respected him for his choice, meaningless in the long run though it was.

An exasperated huff was the last thing he heard before Shun ended the connection, and then the cell phone landed on his coffee table between the sofa and the TV as Jee stretched, glancing disinterestedly at the screen.

The news again, a stupid sitcom, ads, some ridiculous game show, more ads, a horror flick he'd already seen, "Grey's Anatomy," more ads…

He could be fucking Zuko now. On the couch. Right this moment. He could be gripping those sharp hipbones, leaning over the taut line of the kid's back, reaching to pull a fistful of black hair, driving himself home, finding out exactly just how tight Zuko was, how hot inside, and how eager as he pushed back against Jee…

The signal of an incoming text tore him out of the fantasy he'd slipped into without even realizing, and when he saw the name of the sender – ZX – he bit on the inside of his cheek hard enough for it to hurt. It was ridiculous to fear that the kid could somehow see into his debauched mind and read his thoughts – obviously he couldn't and Jee was not as stupid as to be seized by such moronic sentiments – but his timing was nothing short of uncanny.

_It's tomorrow. Do whatever you want_, read the text.

Right. Iroh's Music Night. The thing that made Jee put off his flight and miss the entire thing as a result, because of course all the other flights had been booked already. And if Zuko bothered to remind him of it even despite the bloody stupid fight, then it must really be important. For some reason, and Jee could not begin to imagine what could be so special about that particular night apart from it being somehow Christmassy because of the season.

Maybe Zuko would sing. Jee almost snorted at the mental image. As if.

He deliberated briefly whether or not to reply, decided against it, then returned to his channel-surfing, his eyes blank and not seeing a thing.

Or maybe the kid would dance. Wouldn't that be a sight. Looking at all the grace, or lack of thereof, Zuko displayed on daily basis, seeing him dance would probably be some pretty good entertainment, not that it was ever likely to happen…

But, as Jee lifted himself off the sofa and wandered over to the kitchen counter in order to make himself a sandwich, his mind started wandering again. Supposing the kid would choose some sexy music to move to? And supposing he would start… stripping? On the table? Or take Jee to the private room at the back and then dance for him there? Taking off bits of his uniform, slowly, teasingly, maintaining eye contact all the time, and then…

Scrambling into Jee's lap, the man imagined idly as he spread peanut butter over the bread that had already gone a little stale. Yes. To straddle him. And then Zuko moving, moving, moving, to a slow, languid rhythm, giving out little whimpers, like he did when Jee kissed him in his bedroom only louder, and Jee would put his arms around him, help guide him, then push Zuko's hips against his groin…

Perhaps it was good that the TV chose this particular moment to run a news feature about a female teacher put on trial for having sex with her sixteen-year-old student. Jee froze, all dirty fantasies instantly forgotten and leaving a cold stab of guilt in his gut, knife suspended over bread, and listened to the news presenter condemning the woman as a "freak," "sex predator," "pervert." "Monster." _Who would ever do such a thing to a child, What are the school officials going to do to keep our children safe, Who can we trust with their welfare, Why would their trust be abused in such a vile manner_…

The knife ended up stuck in the wooden chopping board. Jee didn't even notice.

000000000000000000

Toph and her aunt were there. That was the first thing Jee registered when he entered the Jasmine Dragon the following evening, sporting a white shirt and an old, ironed suit he had managed to dig out of the dark recesses of his closet.

So the chief of police herself had decided to grace the merry gathering with her luminous, grumpy presence. The sight of the two Bei Fong ladies only spiked Jee's curiosity as he made his way over to a table where Ming, Pakku and Piandao already sat, Ming waving him over.

"Aren't you looking smart this evening," she teased when Jee pulled up a chair and nodded at each of them in turn. "Are you meeting someone? Is there something we should know about?"

"If there is, my colleague has been most secretive about it," Piandao said with a polite smile. "I did not detect a single detail pointing to a significant other."

Jee rolled his eyes, muttering "Oh for the love of…"

"I quite agree, Lieutenant," murmured Pakku, his expression the epitome of profound disinterest. "I would rather not hear any gossip about my employees this evening if that's all the same to you."

"Right, I forgot the slightest mention of romance turns you into a prickly hedgehog." Ming smirked over her tea. "Sorry, _headmaster_. But what's with the dress up, Jee? You haven't suddenly decided to become proper, have you?"

"At my time of life? Fat chance." Jee leaned back on his chair and took a look around, searching for more familiar faces. It seemed that it was mostly the same crowd as last time, plus the Bei Fong ladies, one of which was currently dangling her feet in the air and chatting while the other glared straight at Jee.

He smiled out of the corner of his mouth and inclined his head at the chief. As usual, it only made her quirk her eyebrow at him.

"I don't know, it just seemed like a good idea," he said, turning back to Ming. It was partly true. He didn't need to add that he thought it would be a good idea because it might impress Zuko enough for the kid to stop sulking for a few seconds. "It's supposed to be a special night, right?"

"Well yeah, but it's not like there's a dress code –"

"What makes _me_ curious, Lieutenant," interrupted Pakku, leaning back in his own chair and crossing his arms over his chest, his face fixed into the habitual frown, "is what brings you here in the first place. As I recall, you once expressed a sentiment that it was not your, ah, cup of tea."

"A cup of tea is not his cup of tea," Ming saw it fit to add, chuckling. Jee rolled his eyes at her again, if only to play for time.

She hadn't been all that quick to forgive him, not enough to want to socialize with him again for a long time, but they got there eventually. Apparently buying her beer after beer when they finally got around to hanging out in a pub worked wonders at getting back into her good books.

Jee was glad. It was always good to have one more person he could talk to openly. Sort of openly, at least.

But he had a question to answer here, didn't he…

"Zuko asked me to," he said finally; he couldn't think of a better cover story, and besides, there was nothing inherently wrong in that, was it? Maybe his table companions would know what the whole deal with tonight's Music Night was. "He seemed to think it's important. No idea why."

For a moment it looked like he'd hit jackpot; as soon as the words left his mouth, he caught Piandao and Pakku exchange surprised glances. Ming, too, looked positively shocked, but the reactions could have just as well been due to the fact that Zuko attached any importance at all to Music Night. The kid made no secret of how much he hated the event.

Jee waited, looking at each of them in turn, until Pakku cleared his throat. "_Well_," he started. "Congratulations, Lieutenant. It would seem that the boy has finally found a person here in Summerfield he likes well enough to invite here tonight. It hasn't happened before, to be sure. Keep it up and I might have to begin to suspect you of supernatural powers."

"We understand each other," Jee murmured, looking straight at Pakku and slipping easily into his blank Talk To Officers expression. "As much as anyone can understand him, if that counts as a supernatural power. I guess it does. But what's the deal here? Do any of you know?"

"You will learn soon enough, friend," said Piandao with a smile that looked unnervingly cryptic. "Just wait. Tonight _is_ a special night."

"Yeah, I managed to gather that for myself, but why –"

"Ah, Jeong-Jeong." Pakku smiled wryly as he looked up at someone standing behind Jee. "Finally. But where is Bumi? _You_ were supposed to be on loonysitting duty tonight."

"Distracted by a snowball fight outside the teashop." The drama teacher took the vacant chair next to Piandao and greeted each of his colleagues in that typical, brisk manner of his that made one think of a wolf. Or a lion. That would go better with his intimidating mane and the scars on his face which Jee continuously forgot to ask about. "I assumed he's sane enough to find his way here on his own. Has it begun yet?"

"Take in the general lack of people singing and deduce that for yourself." Pakku gestured around the teashop that, indeed, had a surprising shortage of amateur musicians performing live, which was supposed to be the main highlight of the whole thing after all.

Jee took the opportunity to look around again and indulged in a brief game of Zuko-spotting, which failed to produce satisfying results. No sulky kid stalked around the teashop taking orders – and, for that matter, no robust uncle filled the space with booming conversation and belly-deep laughter. Jee was hardly a regular, but even he could see that the absence of the two made the teashop seem strangely bereft.

Not that Jee was particularly eager to face Zuko after their fight – the kid missed classes on Friday – but still, Jee _had_ cancelled a visit with his friends just for the sake of the brat.

"Iroh is busy with the annual game of Coax the Nephew Out of his Den," remarked Pakku drily, somehow managing to make the capital letters fall right into place as he spoke. "He's been gone for an hour now, so my guess is it should take them roughly thirty minutes more."

"Honestly, such a fuss." Ming shook her head, her expression suddenly sad. "Why the kid insists on making everything a hundred times more difficult is beyond me. And he's so goddamn stubborn, too. Jee, you're a regular hero for being able to handle him so well."

"Indeed," Piandao piped in. Jee turned his attention back to the table and caught Pakku giving him a curious, searching look, eyebrows furrowed, while his office-mate continued: "A change in Zuko is definitely visible. He hasn't gotten into a single fight ever since you started giving him private lessons. I daresay he looks less gloomy, too. Well done, Lieutenant. He has really taken to you."

It was a good thing Jee wasn't eating or drinking anything, or he would have choked on it. As it was, he only shrugged and did his best to keep his face expressionless, mainly because he could still feel Pakku's interested gaze on him and was smart enough to know when a gaze was very pointedly _not inquisitive yet_. More importantly still, he knew damned well how little it took for the _not yet_ to be reevaluated.

"Some of those kids respond better to a tough approach," he said in a fake bored monotone. "I guess my experience with boot camp came in handy here. Zuko doesn't want coddling, he needs a firm sense of direction. A solid goal. That's what I'm building on."

"Goodness knows there are more kids in Flowing Creek who would benefit from being on the receiving end of your _firm approach_," Ming said, chuckling. "How about we send all the troublemakers to you now, huh? So you can get full-on Navy at them?"

"How about I spill that tea in your lap?"

"Children, behave," said Jeong-Jeong in a deadpan, expression never shifting, which made Piandao's lips quirk up in an amused little smile.

"Oh. Less than half an hour, then. Our good lieutenant's _tough approach_ really is working wonders," remarked Pakku quietly, looking towards the kitchen entrance; and consequently, all heads turned in that direction as if on cue.

Zuko was there, right enough, but he was not wearing his normal waiter's uniform. Instead, he was dressed surprisingly smart, in a sharp, immaculate black suit and a buttoned red shirt that looked as if it had been ironed within an inch of its life. The get-up emphasized the boy's fine physique most flatteringly, as though it had been tailored specifically to hug that criminally fine figure. His hair remained the usual shaggy mess, but it was obvious someone went to considerable lengths to make the kid look presentable.

And hot. Really, disturbingly hot. Though that was probably an unexpected side-effect.

Jee decided to focus on that rather than on the fact that a seventeen-year-old's suit looked way cleaner, crisper and much more expensive than his own.

Iroh shuffled in right after the boy, pushing him forwards a little, and his outfit looked suspiciously elegant too, though the man remained faithful to his roots and chose a fancy robe over a suit. Jee, who was watching the pair closely, noticed that both uncle and nephew looked upset over something, and though he would have dismissed it out of hand if it were only Zuko, it was clear from Iroh's expression that they must have had some kind of a row.

The impression was confirmed as soon as Zuko entered the teashop fully – keeping his head low, not looking anyone in the eye, he stalked over to the only table that was still vacant and sat there, scowling into the wood. Meanwhile, his uncle did his best to keep up appearances and schooled his face into a smile that was almost close enough to the real thing. Then, he started on a round around the teashop, greeting everybody.

"I suppose some things will stay the same no matter what," said Ming quietly, looking sadly at the center of furious doom that was Zuko's sequestered table.

"The kid never did like attention," Pakku agreed. "I tried to convince Iroh to let it go this time, but of course the old fool didn't want to hear a word about it."

Jee frowned, glancing at Zuko. Even though he had no idea what was going on, he couldn't stamp down the feeling that Pakku had it all wrong. Zuko did want attention. But of a very different kind.

If he hoped that his staring would activate Zuko's awareness and make him look up, though, he was disappointed – the brat seemed entirely happy ignoring everyone else and oozing hostility so thick that it practically solidified around him and sealed him off in an impregnable bubble. Which was rather irritating, considering that he was the one who pestered Jee about coming to the event in the first place. Jee had a brief impulse to text the brat with something provocative just to see his reaction and _make_ him look up before he realized how childish that was.

Still. Imagining the face Zuko would make if he read something like _You look very fuckable tonight_ was entertaining enough on its own.

On the other hand, maybe that would distract the kid from whatever he was brooding on…

Jee did not get a chance to consider the idea, though, because Iroh Xi arrived at their table moments later, looking considerably cheered up after talking to people other than his nephew.

"So good to see you all here tonight," he said, his voice as deep and warm and rumbling as ever. "We shall begin in a moment."

"What was that about?" Pakku asked, gesturing in Zuko's general direction. "You said he resigned himself to the whole party idea."

"Ah." Iroh's face fell. "Well. I'm afraid it's rather complicated. But not to worry, I'm sure my nephew will feel better once we have some lovely music."

"And I'm sure you're a delusional old optimist," murmured Jeong-Jeong. "But let us hope so, for your sake."

In response, Iroh only beamed at him good-naturedly. "I will be right back with you," he said. "Let me just open the festivities."

"He makes it sound like he's about to lead a New Year's parade or something," muttered Jee as Iroh wandered off towards the stage.

"The fondness for drama seems to run in the family," remarked Piandao; Jee very pointedly didn't comment with a _Look who's talking_. He could restrain his tongue. Sometimes.

In the meantime, Iroh found his way to the stage and was tapping at the mic, drawing the attention of everyone in the teashop. Heads turned to him one by one like ships drawn to the glowing lighthouse in the middle of the night, the good-natured hubbub quieting until it died down almost completely to be replaced with a spontaneous, if a bit awkward, round of applause. The old man was clearly pleased by this – his smile deepened as he hid his hands in the vast sleeves, sweeping a benevolent gaze over the gathering. It made him look like the epitome of an Asian Santa Claus.

"I bid you all a very warm welcome," he announced, his voice carrying easily. "Now, before we begin, I have an announcement to make."

Jee perked up at this and craned his neck to see the old man better. Finally, some answers.

However, as it often happens, Iroh's next words only lead to even more chaos in his brain as they settled there with the all the gentleness and subtlety of a detonated atomic bomb:

"Tonight we are celebrating my nephew Zuko's eighteenth birthday."

… WHAT.

Jee's eyes snapped to the brat on automatic before he was even done processing what Iroh's words meant. Zuko still wasn't looking at anyone, not even at him, and it would have been insulting if Jee had the presence of mind to analyze it. As it was, he could only stare as Iroh continued his speech with some birthday wishes and introducing the bands and whatever, Jee had tuned the rest of it out already, too preoccupied with the big revelation.

And it was a _pretty fucking huge_ revelation as far as he was concerned. With even bigger potential implications.

Zuko was eighteen now. _Eighteen_. Which meant he was legally an adult. Which meant he was no longer underage. Which meant that he could legally have sex.

They could have sex and Jee wouldn't automatically have the entire force along with the federal court descend upon him if anyone saw him shoving his hands down the brat's pants. Not anymore. Not right on the spot, anyway. Probably.

Christ, so that's why the kid had been so adamant about Jee coming here tonight.

Subtle, Zuko. Real subtle.

They needed to talk, and they needed to talk _soon_.

Like, now.

Jee almost made it out of his chair before he realized he had no idea what to say to the brat, upon which realization he promptly sat back down and folded his hands on the table. In hindsight, it was an excessively stupid thing to do; he must have looked like a proper weirdo and his table companions did not hesitate to shoot him skeptical glances.

"Something wrong?" Ming asked in a whisper, leaning over to him; Iroh was still talking, Suki and her band setting up their stuff behind him in all their face-paint glory.

"No, I just thought I forgot about something," Jee mumbled gruffly in response, wondering with a pang of dread how obvious and telling his surprise really was. A part of him was conscious of Pakku's gaze once again gluing itself to him.

_Congratulations, Jee, you are laying out all your cards right here on the table even before the game's actually begun. Idiot_.

But he couldn't bring himself to genuinely care about any of that. Mostly because his thoughts were still swirling with the massive, massive change that had shifted the ground beneath his feet as soon as Iroh let the words out.

Zuko could have just as well sent him a gilded invitation and a map to his bed. Where he would lay naked and waiting, legs open, a _FUCK ME_ sign hanging from his neck.

Jesus…

Scrambling to hold himself together, Jee ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck without even thinking about it. Now, well… What the hell was he supposed to do with that knowledge? There was a part of him that insisted on giving the sneaky brat a birthday kiss and throw himself joyfully into a lusty adventure with a mentally unbalanced boy who was easily young enough to be his son, had Jee ever wanted one. Another advised caution regardless – there could still be severe repercussions and anyway, he still didn't free himself of doubt regarding Zuko's motivation. That voice of reason was dwindling and growing quieter with every passing second, though, drowned out by Iroh's one word.

Eighteen. Fucking eighteen.

There was nothing for it. They needed to find a way to talk in private. Maybe if Jee stood face to face with the boy he would find the right words. Or the right thoughts.

Because only one thing was horribly certain at this point: it was Jee's call. Zuko couldn't have made his position any clearer if he tried and now everything hinged on what Jee would do. He needed to make his final decision, now, and then stick to it no matter what. No more skirting around it like a miserable coward, no more grasping for excuses. If he accosted Zuko tonight, the kid would no doubt ask again and this time, Jee could not back out with vague, half-inarticulate "I don't know"s.

In the meantime, Suki's girls started their performance, drawing most of the attention, and Jee seized the chance – he turned in his chair to try and steal an inconspicuous look at the object of both his lust and misery. It looked like abducting Zuko for a few minutes of privacy would be easier said than done. The brat's table was suddenly surrounded by people. The magic of birthdays, Jee thought sourly as he watched the parade of patrons who obviously must have forgotten all about their dislike for the brat rushing over to pat the birthday boy on the back and wink and him and bellow condescending stuff such as "So, you're a big boy now, eh?". Jee wondered how much of it was genuine if misguided goodwill rather than the urge to suck up to Iroh.

Judging from his face, Zuko had no such doubts. His glower was thunderous.

It was a miracle the table had not been reduced to smithereens yet.

"I'll be right back," Jee said, getting out of his chair and shrugging his jacket on as Iroh ambled back to their table. "Need a smoke."

Like hell he needed one.

As soon as he found himself outside, the music and chatter muted and distant, he fumbled for a cigarette and lit it with an urgency that surprised even him. The drag felt _good_. Jee honestly couldn't remember the last time smoking brought him such profound satisfaction.

The frost instantly clinging to his cheeks and fingers also brought relief, grounding him back in the moment and reminding sharply just what was at stake.

However, it brought something else, too – a memory of a frozen lake in the middle of a dark wood and a warm, flushed boy, laughing.

Maybe Zuko wouldn't require an answer right this instant. Maybe he would still give Jee a little more time to think…

The problem was, his body – and, indeed, his common sense, too – was telling him he didn't need any more time. He already knew what he wanted. And he had to admit that, day after day, his resolve not to reach out for it dwindled, muted by all the counter-arguments he kept coming up with to justify his own lechery.

The lake planted doubt in his mind, a strong, strong seed that was now bursting into bloom as if it had been fed plant steroids. The lesser wrong. The things he could teach the kid. The companionship. The good things he could do. The subtle guidance he could try to provide. The self-confidence he could bring out and strengthen. The rage he could bank, or at least channel into creation rather than destruction.

His empty, lonely bed.

Dammit, he was tired of being alone. Of falling asleep without another person's warm, regularly breathing body right beside him. It'd been years – fucking _years_ – and at that point he knew, with the kind of certainty that it was impossible to deny, that he wanted the person to be Zuko.

Jesus, just imagining what it would feel like to hold the brat naked against him was enough to send familiar heat stirring in the pit of his stomach, which was just pathetic, plain and simple.

He was seriously too old for this shit. He shouldn't be reacting like that. But it had been so long…

Besides, it was even more absurd but somehow, he had come to think that maybe, deep down, Zuko was actually… Well, not a good kid, he was still a brat, but – fuck, but Jee liked him. In a funny sort of way one might come to like an annoying cat that scratches all the furniture and pisses everywhere. They had managed to form an understanding of sorts, a truce – even when they fought – a way to interact that already was way beyond what the officials saw as appropriate, but the bottom line was that Jee enjoyed spending time with the kid.

Mostly.

Because sometimes he still wanted to give the kid a good, solid walloping.

It was a blessing, actually, that they got to interact in a space that allowed them to be raw, physical and – basically, when it comes down to it – to beat the shit out of each other under the sanctioned pretense of training. Both of them needed that space. Zuko probably more, but Jee was grateful for the opportunity to let out some stress that way too.

Zuko was a good sparring partner. And a quick student, even despite being an incredibly infuriating one. And _of fucking course_ Jee's mind would immediately leap to imagine how those two qualities combined would manifest themselves in the bedroom, even as he took another hearty drag.

Eighteen, the brat was. Eighteen. Mother of God…

"Quite nice outside tonight, isn't it, Lieutenant?"

Okay, the way he almost bit right through the cigarette was definitely undignified, as was the way he almost jumped away from the warm, female voice when it sounded too close for comfort. Shit, he must have been really caught up in his thoughts not to hear the woman approaching, the one who was now shuffling for something in her handbag and looking distinctly familiar with her huge grey hair and heavy make-up and round, chubby face and –

Oh right. The guidance counselor, the one everyone called "Aunt Wu," the one Ming said had been flirting with old Iroh. Jee vaguely remembered having a few idle chats with her back when he had been installing himself into the school community. She seemed decent enough, warm and friendly in a way that did put the word "aunt" to mind, but they haven't actually interacted much. For all her warmth, the guidance counselor had struck Jee as someone too… fluffy. Too maternal. People who found as much joy in interacting with youth as she did usually were.

And now she was making herself quite at home beside Jee, bundled up in her huge, heavy coat and taking out a cigarette and a lighter as though the two of them were thick as thieves.

"Evening." Jee nodded at her and leaned back against the wall of the teashop, watching the woman warily.

Would it be polite to just bugger off? He really, really didn't feel like chatting with anybody.

However, the counselor forestalled any such hopes by addressing him directly as she lit her cigarette. "I'm glad I caught you out here, Lieutenant." She took a deep inhale, then smiled as she let out the smoke. "I've been meaning to have a chat with you for a while, but you always seem so busy back at the school."

Well, damn.

There was nothing for it, then. Grudgingly, Jee decided to just keep smoking, resigning himself to a few minutes of conversation as he tried to put his spinning thoughts on hold. Pretending to not be terribly reluctant to continue the conversation was suddenly harder than usual and Jee didn't really feel like putting much effort into it anyway. Maybe that woman would sense his mood and make herself scarce.

On the other hand, maybe a break from all the Zuko thoughts would be good for him. A distraction. Could just help him see things straight again.

Well, as straight as the situation warranted.

However, as Jee's rotten luck would have it, it was precisely Zuko that the lady wanted to talk to him about.

"I was so pleased to hear that you have been giving young Zuko private lessons," she said lightly, smiling at Jee. "It's very good of you to devote so much of your time to the boy."

This made Jee glance at her sharply, long and searching – he couldn't help it, the reaction just kicked in like an old defense mechanism. But there was nothing of Pakku's vague, blooming suspicion in this woman. Mostly, she seemed amiable and relaxed, and was regarding Jee with something that could perhaps pass for amusement, but also with a tint of professional respect.

The latter was so uncommon in Jee's life nowadays that it was enough for him to put his reluctance on hold.

"It's not that much of a sacrifice," he said brusquely when it became clear that Aunt Wu expected some kind of input from him.

Her smile grew. "Don't sell yourself short, my good man. Many people would say that it's quite the contrary and that, sadly, includes most of Zuko's teachers. Not one of them seemed to find a way to connect with him on a more personal level, even those who cared enough to actually make the effort."

Jee cocked his head to the side, ash from his cigarette falling on the sidewalk. _My good man_? In-fucking-deed. "Not a good student, then, is he?" he murmured.

"Oh, he is. Most studious. His report cards rarely contain anything lower than Cs. You wouldn't think that of him, would you?" Aunt Wu smiled when she saw Jee's surprised face. "But the boy struggles. Iroh tells me he spends twice as much time on homework as young men his age should – the subjects he insists on choosing are not something that comes easily to him, though he tries so very hard. And he never asks for help, not even back when I first tried to treat him…"

"Wait." Suddenly, Jee found himself completely engrossed in the conversation. "You _treated_ him? As in, actual therapy? And Zuko _allowed_ it?"

It was too late to bite his tongue and stop the words from flowing out, but thankfully Aunt Wu didn't take too much notice of his incredulity; she shook her head, the smile gone to be replaced by wistfulness.

"Hardly. I'm afraid we – that is, Iroh and I – only managed to force him to sit through a handful of sessions when he first arrived, and then he declared that he didn't want any of it. He was _very_ vocal about it, poor boy. Of course, as a close friend of his uncle's I have been able to keep a closer eye on him nonetheless, but he would not allow me any further attempts at active therapy. He's reluctant to even hold a casual conversation with me now. Probably afraid I would find a way to drag him back into the sessions somehow, even though Iroh and I agreed that it's no use as long as Zuko remains so hostile to the idea. It's impossible to help someone against their will, as I'm sure you know."

"Yes." Jee nodded, letting out a puff of smoke. Damn right he knew. "But did you manage to – well, did he tell you anything about – "

He didn't need to specify what he meant. The counselor shook her head even before he could articulate any details. "I only managed to scratch the surface, I'm afraid," she said. "He never told me anything substantial. It's quite obvious that he has been abused in some way and that his father is behind most of his anxieties, but other than that, I know nothing. Whenever I tried to prod deeper, he would clam up immediately and refuse to speak a word. Though of course I wouldn't tell you even if he did confess anything." Here, she winked at Jee, but it was only a momentary flicker of playfulness before it was replaced by seriousness again. "I suppose he hasn't confided in you…?"

Jee was quick to shake his head. "Not a word. I only know that he's eager to place well at the championship."

Aunt Wu nodded at that, as though that was exactly what she expected to hear. "Still, it seems that you have done a wealth of good for the boy," she said. "The very fact that you're here tonight… And it seems that it was on Zuko's invitation?"

Jee very pointedly did not look away when he confirmed that yes, Zuko invited him, but he didn't deign it necessary to elaborate on what the occasion actually was.

He didn't add that he almost let that trust down and didn't come. That was not the sort of thing one bragged about.

The smile he received in return felt suspiciously as if the woman had just given him a trophy. "This is exactly what I mean. Apart from you, there hasn't been anyone else who could interact with Zuko on a deeper level… Well, maybe apart from that Jet boy, but that didn't end well at all."

Jee struggled to retain the posture of casual disinterest, but it was proving excessively difficult. "What Jet boy?" he asked, flicking the ash on the sidewalk again. "He never mentioned anyone of that name."

But Jin had, Jee remembered. Back with the Great Drunk Zuko On Boxes fiasco. There was someone called Jet she had invoked who was supposedly a point in favor of Zuko being gay. An ex-boyfriend, then?

If that was the case, then Jee definitely wanted to know. It could clarify a whole fucking lot and if Zuko actually wasn't a virgin…

… Then that would be a tad disappointing. True. But it would also make things considerably easier if they were to get down to do the nasty, which, Jee had to admit before himself, was more and more likely by the minute.

As long as Zuko still wanted him, which wasn't all that obvious anymore.

"No, he wouldn't, would he," murmured the counselor in the meantime, her gaze locked far ahead. "It wasn't a good episode for him. He was a very lonely child when he first arrived and, well, I suppose that made him very impressionable too. He met this boy, who was extremely troublesome in his own right, and for a while they stuck together. It must have made sense for Zuko to associate with someone who was a bit similar to him… But Jet was, as you might call it, a bad influence."

"You mean drinking, smoking, that kind of thing?"

The woman's face remained vague as she looked at Jee again. "More or less. I don't know any details, but… When it ended, it was messy. And Zuko was in a much worse shape for a long, long time, poor boy."

Jee looked to the ground. "So what became of that other guy? This – Jet?" It was good to know. If Zuko really had a rebellious "bad influence" ex hanging around, it was better to be prepared in case things got – messy.

Not that it was anything Jee couldn't handle. But he was already dealing with more pesky teenagers on a daily basis than was probably healthy and he really didn't need a new source of potential headaches.

"I believe he was sent to a reformatory in Detroit, or was it Lansing? He is an orphan, you see, and lived with a bunch of foster families before he finally crossed the line."

_Crossed the line_. A perfect euphemism for some deep shit if Jee ever heard one. "What did he do?" he asked in a low voice. "Busted some cars, painted obscenities on people's houses, mugged someone? Or was it more serious?"

"Vandalism and assault. Which, indeed, were repeated offences in his case, so our good chief of police rightly decided that it was time for a more serious intervention." Then, the woman looked at Jee with a searching, wistful expression before she added, "Please don't ask me if Zuko was involved, Lieutenant. His association with Jet is something only he is entitled to talk about, if he ever feels so inclined."

"Huh." Jee lit another cigarette, out of the need to have something to occupy his hands with rather than anything else. "Thanks for telling me, anyhow." Zuko confiding in him about this particular episode was just as likely as Pakku repainting the school pink, but he stopped himself from saying so out loud. This lady seemed to believe that he was becoming Zuko's – what, role model? Friend? Confidante? Whatever it was, Jee didn't feel like dispelling that particular misconception just yet.

Mostly because he saw this as a chance to prod a little deeper. The full meaning of Zuko's consent was still something that was holding him back and if this lady held the answers…

If only he could frame the right questions.

"Like I said, he doesn't actually confide in me," he started cautiously. "I'm his coach. We train. That's all there is to it, but it's good to see that it's helping him."

"From what Iroh told me, it is." The smile was back on Aunt Wu's face. "Which is why I wanted to talk to you, Lieutenant. I want to encourage you to keep it up. Don't give up on him. We all know Zuko is a difficult boy, but I'm sure he's worth the effort. And if at any time he does or says something that troubles you, do not hesitate to let me know, maybe I would be able to help."

Well, this was it. His opening. Time to see if his people skills really were what he believed them to be.

"Has Zuko ever dated anyone?" he asked, letting out the smoke and trying to make it sound casual and non-pervy; it wasn't exactly a difficult feat seeing as the other teachers gossiped about their students' relationships _all the fucking time_. Normally it drove Jee up the wall and after spending only a few minutes in the teacher's lounge on any given day he felt that he would either leave or start breaking things. "I never heard anything about it and it seems –"

"Ah, yes, I see what you mean." Aunt Wu nodded. "Not to anyone's knowledge, no. If he has, he kept it a secret. There were – ah – rumors going around about him and Jet, but only Zuko knows how true those were. However, you must have noticed that he isn't exactly well-suited to a romantic relationship at the moment. He's never seemed interested in that sort of thing."

Not interested, huh? Oh, the sneaky brat.

"So you wouldn't advise it?" Jee asked, face blank. "Don't you think it might do him some good?"

"Oh, with the right person and the right attitude, yes," the counselor remarked. "A world of good. Iroh believes that it would magically cure all the boy's troubles if he found himself a nice girl, actually. I'm not sure I quite agree, though, because it's easy to see that Zuko already suffered more heartache than any person his age should and relationships at this stage could only make it worse. You know how kids are these days, Lieutenant."

… Right. It wasn't exactly what Jee expected to hear, but he could see the sense in that. His own adolescent exploits had been one petty disaster chasing another and Zuko definitely didn't need _that_.

"But with a mature partner," Aunt Wu continued after a pause, "someone who would look past his rage, someone who would be patient and caring enough to love him for who he is when he's not wearing that shell of is, someone who wouldn't add to his insecurities… Yes, that would help him a great deal."

"Insecurities?"

"Oh yes. I may not have treated Zuko for a long time, Lieutenant, but I saw and heard enough to ascertain that the boy is absolutely terrified of rejection. A very common issue with young people like him, I'm afraid, and usually indicating some sort of internalized trauma. Family issues is the most obvious thing in his case and from the looks of it, his father isn't helping… Are you quite all right, Lieutenant?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, sorry." He must have been frowning harder than usual, which wasn't a good sign. But he couldn't possibly help it.

_Terrified of rejection_. Damn it, he was such a fucking idiot.

"You have, of course, realized who his father is?" asked the counselor while Jee was busy trying to pull himself together and squash the guilt monster that was even now gnawing at his gut.

So she knew? Of course she would, she was close with Iroh and it seemed that most of the staff, or at least those who frequented Iroh's little Pai Sho competitions, knew that they interacted with a family of billionaires. No point in playing dumb.

"Ozai Xi," Jee murmured darkly. "But Zuko didn't tell me."

"He never tells anyone. But it's good that you know. You should, if you are serious about helping the boy. Are you?"

"Yes, I am," Jee said, looking straight into her eyes without flinching. "I may not be much of an educator, I know, but I want to help if I can."

That much was true. He did. It was only his means that she would object to if she had an inkling of suspicion, which, amazingly, it seemed that she didn't.

So there were still people out there who didn't immediately jump to dirty conclusions? The thought was strangely comforting, even through the guilt which still wasn't letting up and probably wouldn't until Jee found a way to make the situation better somehow.

"Thank you." The counselor smiled at him again. "I'm sure he appreciates it in his own way."

There wasn't all that much to add, so Jee didn't and simply nodded at her, finishing the second cigarette. There were so many questions he still wanted to ask, but – perhaps luckily for him – at that time they were joined in their little smoking circle by Jeong-Jeong, whom Aunt Wu promptly engaged in a conversation about the winter play, so Jee saw it as his opening and took his leave of both of them, sneaking back into the teashop.

He still didn't quite know what to do, but maybe intercepting Zuko now would be a little easier.

It wasn't. Just as he walked in to the lively tunes of Suki's band still permeating the space, he saw that the brat's table was now blissfully free of hypocrites, but someone else had taken their place – That Lot. The kids had surrounded Zuko like a noisy flock of chattering birds, Sokka sitting close enough to sling an arm around his neck companionably, which in itself was such an unholy sight that Jee involuntarily paused in his step just to stare. They were pressing something into Zuko's hands. From what Jee could tell it looked like presents – duh, birthday boy, they must have known. And lo, Zuko wasn't actually flipping the table and snapping at anyone and storming away from them! He seemed uncomfortable, sure enough, but he wasn't pushing Sokka or anyone else away. Rather, he was simply looking to the side, away from everyone, and mumbling something.

The tableau was uncommon enough that, for a moment, Jee was seized by an absurd notion that he didn't really know the brat at all.

Well then. There was nothing for it but wait.

He ambled back over to his own table and watched with barely concealed disinterest as the old geezers played their strange board game – Ming had absconded somewhere in the meantime, she was nowhere to be seen – but it was probably a good thing that his companions were too engrossed to pay him much attention. Otherwise they would have surely noticed his glazed, absent expression and then Pakku might have gotten even more suspicious.

It was with some sourness that Jee thought he should be so used to the Zuko-related whirlwind in his head by now that they were almost drinking buddies.

He held out for another five minutes before taking out his phone. _Happy birthday, brat._ There. That should do it.

It was downright _strange_, not being the center of Zuko's attention for once. However stupid it felt to realize it. But maybe he deserved the snub. Maybe Zuko was simply sick and tired of waiting for him. Maybe the gym was the last straw, maybe he'd drawn it out for too long and now the tables had turned…

A drink. That's what he needed. A drink.

Just as he caught Jin and asked her for a beer – it was on the menu tonight, bless the god of alcohol-deprived ex-sailors – the Kyoshi girls started to clear off the stage amidst a highly enthusiastic applause to be replaced by Iroh once more. He tapped the mic, his amiable face wrinkled and warm and so damned good-natured that really, it would have been impossible to picture the man in an army uniform if Jee hadn't already seen the pictures.

"Any volunteers tonight?" asked the ex-major general, sweeping the crowd for prey. "Come now! I'm sure we have a lot of talent here among us."

Oh. Jee vaguely remembered Ming mentioning something about there being karaoke on Music Nights, but the last one Jee'd been to, he had been too busy making out with a drunk kid in the drunk kid's bedroom to notice any karaoke-ing. Probably for the better.

Iroh's invitation was followed by the usual nervous murmurs and taunting and frantic shaking of heads that usually happened whenever someone announced open mic – it was a procedure so standard that it was probably a law of the universe by now. However, Jee was surprised to see that the ceremony of awkwardness was cut remarkably short that night, and by none other than his own students. Aang, his bald head and unusual tattoos as striking as ever, was dragging a blushing Katara after him onto the stage and smiling so wide that it consumed half his face.

"Happy birthday, Zuko!" the exchange student sing-sang at the microphone, waving in the direction of Zuko's table. "This song is for you!"

Jee almost sputtered his beer. If anything could make Zuko's mood even worse, it was definitely this and indeed, when the lieutenant glanced over at the brat, he was sitting with an expression that was borderline miserable, mortified and furious at the same time.

The song Aang and Katara chose for their duet was a pleasant enough little ditty, probably straight off the top 40 charts, about loving yourself and being perfect and pretty much exactly the kind of motivational crap Jee would expect from the pair. They had pretty good voices, too, both of them, and sounded nice in harmony. They must have practiced it before, there was no way they could just harmonize like that at the drop of a hat, and Jee very much doubted Zuko would appreciate the message of the song, but it was definitely well-intentioned if a little misguided.

Still. In all the months he'd taught Aang, he'd come to learn that the kid was this impossible ray of sunshine and rainbows and a tireless distributor of smiles, as long as he wasn't made to do something that was at odds with his Tibetan monk teachings. He probably wouldn't recognize Zuko's moods well enough to know that doing something like that was the last thing that the Xi brat needed.

But watching him and Katara on stage did give Jee an idea. A strange, nagging little idea that was rather ludicrous and yet wouldn't leave him alone even as the next person – Sokka – took to the stage…

Zuko still hadn't texted him back. And he was still refusing to acknowledge Jee's existence.

Jee kept drinking his beer and watched as Sokka performed a not-so-impressive rap song with an attempt to beatbox, and the idea kept on growing, planting its treacherous little seeds in his brain…

In the end, he wasn't sure what ultimately prompted it. He sure as fuck wouldn't be able to explain it to a psychologist if he was made to lie on a couch and tell them about his problems. Maybe it was spite, maybe it was a decision finally made and wanting to manifest itself somehow, maybe he just wanted to feel the brat's scorching gaze on himself again or maybe he just missed playing with the crowds.

Maybe he simply wanted to see Zuko's reaction.

Whatever it was, it guided his legs up to the podium, but not before it prompted him to grab a guitar which had been resting in the corner by the stage, probably waiting for other musically-inclined guests to pick it up.

Ming had wanted to see him play. He had a perfectly valid excuse to do this if anyone asked and he winked at her when he finally spotted her in the crowd; her jaw was hanging open and she was unwittingly spilling her drink across the lap of none other than the esteemed Chief Bei Fong. The Iron Lady also had her gaze locked on him and seemed no less shocked.

Jee smirked. He liked that. Oh, he did like that.

"How about a classic, huh?" he called out, strumming the guitar once to test it. It had a good, clear sound and fitted easily into his hands as he rested his left leg on one of the speakers on the edge of the podium. "Anyone here a Beatles fan?"

A loud, collective cheer indicated that yes, there were fans of The Beatles in the house. Either that or the of-age company had already consumed enough quantities of alcohol to cheer even if Jee insulted their mothers, which was likely the case. Jee tried out a chord just to get friendly with the guitar, then sought out Zuko in the crowd. The kid was gaping at him, utterly floored. It was all the encouragement Jee needed to start with the song.

Bingo. As soon as he begun to sing, Zuko's expression immediately froze into complete and utter disbelief followed closely by outrage. It felt incredibly satisfying. His selection couldn't have been more obvious if he tried – what else could the brat infer from a song that started with _Well she was just seventeen, if you know what I mean? _And it was exactly the interpretation Jee wanted from him.

The song was popular enough to pass unnoticed by the rest of the crowd and Jee was careful not to look at Zuko too often as he sang, but as soon as he started, he realized he meant it. Truly meant it. The crux of the matter was that he had cracked, he had made his decision even before he realized it had been made, and now all that remained was to let Zuko know and see where it would take them from there. If only the kid would let him.

He wanted Zuko. And he was all out of excuses.

The Jasmine Dragon patrons seemed to enjoy his little gig well enough – they were clapping and singing along all through the song and demanded an encore after he had finished. Jee didn't really want to stay up on stage, largely because he was feeling, very acutely, the heat of a pair of stormy golden eyes on him; but he obliged the crowd anyway, if only to play it safe and not give Pakku any more reasons to glare a hole in his head_. I Just Saw A Face_ had always been a crowd pleaser and it proved its worth this time around as well, with the clapping and the singing-along during the chorus being even louder, and his eyes may have drifted in Zuko's direction a bit too often than he meant them too, but it was all right. Something in him, probably enforced by the beer, felt the beginnings of elation, of something large and insistent growing in him, and he was impatient to let it out.

He didn't let himself be bullied into another song, though he enjoyed himself well enough and it was actually a nice reminder of all the nights out he used to spend with the guys, when he and his guitar had provided some nice, light entertainment. The insistent ringing of an incoming text in his pocket was enough to have him put the guitar away and jump off the stage, just in time to catch a glimpse of Zuko retreating towards the kitchen door in a hurry.

Jee knew better than to follow him immediately. Instead, he strolled over to Ming, who was still sitting with the Bei Fong ladies and waving him over so frantically that Jee feared her arm might fall off.

"Here," she pushed a full glass of beer towards him once he sat down, "on me, Mr. Rockstar Guy. That was epic."

"The only epic thing about it was the amount of _ridiculous_," countered the chief when Jee accepted the beer with a smile. "But I guess I cannot arrest people for being embarrassing."

"Old people music," commented Toph with a grin. "Fitting."

"I'm not that old." Jee nudged the girl with his elbow as he took a swig.

"Oh yeah? How old _are_ you, coach?"

"Old enough to be considered a respectable elder," Ming supplied cheerfully. "Even after singing The Beatles. What's gotten into you, Heng? You're suddenly a party animal?"

"Well, someone had to save you all from the deluge of adolescent wailing." Jee drank some more, glancing back to the stage over his shoulder; Aang and all of his friends were back on the stage and singing a group version of _Man in the Mirror_. Talk about motivational sap…

"How good of you," Chief Bei Fong murmured. "We are so lucky to have a brave lieutenant such as yourself to deliver us from the wailing with the aid of annoyingly chipper and inappropriate songs."

"Of course that's something you would pick up on, Chief." Jee rolled his eyes at her. "Forever vigilant."

"It's my job to look out for any disturbing vibes. A middle-aged man singing about dancing with seventeen-year-olds definitely counts as disturbing."

"Cut him some slack, Lin," Ming interfered before Jee had the chance to find a response. "It's just a song. Unless you meant to woo some unsuspecting nymphet, Heng?"

She winked at him then and Jee knew precisely what the wink was meant to project: _We both know it's not a nymphet you'd be looking for_. As though it was an exciting secret or something. And maybe it would have been amusing if not for the sudden coldness of apprehension that spilled in the pit of Jee's stomach.

"Oh, you know me." He shrugged, smirking and doing his best to keep his cards hidden. "Always on the lookout for hot sixteens. They're so attractive with their heads bent over their cell phones and all that acne."

"I don't have acne," Toph observed.

"No, you don't, Champ," Jee agreed, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "But don't go breaking too many hearts over winter break. Those boys are fragile."

She grinned in his general direction, her milky gaze lighting up with playfulness. Jee knew better than to call her adorable to her face – this kid was a tiny death machine – but he could still think it in the privacy of his head. "One heart a day, then?"

"One heart a day is good."

"Jee, you're bad influence." Ming raised her glass to him. "Stop corrupting Lin's niece right in front of her."

This prompted an exasperated huff from Toph, who suddenly looked decidedly deflated. "It's not like I'll be breaking anyone's heart during winter break," she complained. "My folks are taking me to Los Angeles. Boring! At least Zuko's going skiing. That's fun."

"Is he now?" Jee asked, taking a sip just to mask his surprise.

"Yeah. To the Alps. Lucky bastard."

"Toph, what did I tell you about language in front of people who aren't cops?" Lin rolled her eyes again.

"But coach's an ex-soldier," countered the kid smugly. "And Ming's, like, almost a cop. It's not like they'll cover their mouths all dainty-like if I say fuck."

"True." Ming nodded her agreement. "But if you do swear on school premises, Mr. coach here will box you around the ears."

"Yeah. Because people like Sugar Queen might faint." Toph smirked momentarily before her expression fell again. "_They're_ going skiing too. All of them, together. Twinkletoes said they wanted me to come with them, but…"

She didn't finish the thought. She didn't have to. A telling silence fell over the table as each of them contemplated the casual, mindless cruelty that some parents were capable of in the name of "the good of the child."

Just thinking about it and seeing Toph's face made Jee want to break something.

Seriously, what was _wrong_ with those bastards…?

Just as Ming leaned over the table to pat Toph's hand comfortingly and murmuring something about the girl getting a tan, Jee's cell phone vibrated in his pocket again.

_The back door. Outside. Where the fuck are you_.

The smile tugged the corners of Jee's lips marginally up before he could stop it.

"Excuse me, ladies," he said, getting up and leaving his almost-emptied glass on the table.

"The showman's middle-aged bladder isn't what it used to be?" Chief Lin smirked at him, which prompted an amused snort from both Toph and Ming.

"Quite the opposite. I'd invite you to check, Chief, but – "

"Geez, stop flirting already." Toph pulled a disgusted face at them. "I just ate."

Jee left them with the sight of the chief's mortified expression and the sound of Ming's throaty laughter booming behind his back.

Right. This was it. As he maneuvered his way through the cheerful, singing crowd, Jee's heart started hammering like it hadn't in years and there was a very familiar surge of warmth getting ready to pool in his stomach, even as he replayed everything Aunt Wu said in his head.

Yeah, she had a point. A failed relationship could wreak havoc in Zuko's already unstable head. But Jee wasn't some cheeky moron of a kid who had next to no idea about handling another person in bed. He _cared_ about his partners, no matter how casual they were. And he would care about Zuko.

Especially since in a way, he already did.

The kid was by the back entrance all right, leaning against the wall and idly kicking snow-covered pebbles around. His thick, expensive parka was draped carelessly over his shoulders even despite the piercing cold, no scarf or hat in evidence. Nose, healthy cheek and tip of healthy ear colored red by the frost, hair as mussed-up as ever, expensive suit showing under the coat, he looked disturbingly charming and very, very kissable.

Shit, but Jee wanted him.

"Hey," he said once he found himself outside and immediately wished he had taken his own jacket with him. It was _cold_.

Zuko glanced over to him, his expression slightly sullen but mostly unreadable. "What the hell took you so long?" he asked, looking down at the snow he had turned into wet slush.

So they were not going to allude to the fight after all. Good. Jee didn't quite feel like admitting what him staying might actually mean.

"Caution. It would look strange if I followed you here immediately, genius." Jee stepped out of the teashop and closed the back door behind him, then stuffed his hands under his armpits to keep them warm.

It was quiet here. The teashop was bordered with a high fence that detached it from the neighboring buildings and closed the back area from view – but there was hardly anything to see but a couple of dumpsters. The noises of the streets were still audible, but muted by both the distance and the noises coming from the teashop itself. By contrast, the little space seemed entirely deserted.

"What was that?" Zuko murmured, still not looking at Jee and stuffing his hands in the pockets of the parka. Jee resisted the urge to pull the fur-rimmed hood up over the kid's head.

"A song," he explained, leaning his left arm against the closed door and cocking an eyebrow up at the kid. "Need a definition?"

Zuko shot him a half-hearted glare, then looked down at his own boots again. "But was it…"

Jee took a deep breath. Suddenly he regretted not bringing a bottle of wine out here to share between them – it would have made things simpler.

"For you, yes," he admitted. "I thought that much was obvious."

"Why would you sing a song for me?"

Right, so he wanted straight-up and honest. Jee could give him straight-up and honest. But all in good time.

"Well, kid, I don't know," he started. "Why would anyone sing something for another person?"

Zuko stood with his good profile to him, giving Jee a front row seat to the show that was the kid's face, expressions pure and un-twisted by the scar. Usually whatever was going on in that face was distorted by the permanent glower of the fixed, burnt flesh, making it hellishly difficult to discern when the brat had anything other than anger to communicate – which, admittedly, wasn't often. But now that Jee could watch him from his vulnerable side, he saw the shift there, the flash of emotion that was raw, open and exposed.

It made his heart feel strangely heavy.

Months of this, months if tip-toeing and rejection and bumping from one side to the other like a car lost in a fog, and he'd had enough. They both had. It was time to make amends. Time to let go.

Jee already knew what the lesser wrong was and now that he had this knowledge, he couldn't be bothered to give a damn about the rest.

"But I'm not a girl," Zuko whispered, his voice raspy as ever but slightly thicker than usual. Wetter. "You were singing about a girl. And dancing. We never danced."

"I know you're not a girl, Zuko. Believe me, I tend to notice things like that. But some people say that martial arts are a bit like dancing," Jee pointed out with a smile.

Zuko looked at him then. The left side of his face glowered at him as it always did, the tortured, mangled fresh around the slit of the eye grotesque and foreboding and signaling a past and darkness that was still beyond Jee's reach. But the right side was young and fresh and beautiful, and right now it seemed almost hopeful, but with a nervous kind of hope that lurked in the doorway, afraid to pass through the threshold because it might have the door shut right in its face.

This had to stop right now. Jee was done shutting doors in Zuko's face.

"So what does it mean?" asked the boy, taking a step closer. "What was that supposed to tell me?"

"It was supposed to say happy birthday," Jee replied quietly, also taking a step towards the kid. "Among other things. That is," he gave the kid a stern look, "if you still want it to mean _anything_. I'll understand if you don't. After all, I'm just a grumpy old dick."

This earned him a smirk as Zuko looked to the side, clearly trying to hide the temporary crack in his carefully maintained aloofness. Jee didn't have the heart to tell him how transparent he was being already. For an heir to a business magnate with possible criminal ties, the brat was astoundingly crap at poker faces.

And then he got his answer. As it was often the case with Zuko, it came without words; after a beat the kid reached out and tentatively took Jee's hands in his own. "Yes, you are," he whispered, guiding Jee's arms inside the warmth of his fur-lined parka. "You're also a cold one."

Jee allowed his arms to be guided so that they ended up right around the kid. The warmth of the inside of the parka, with Zuko's body heat already absorbed, felt toasty warm and the fluffy fur brushed the rough skin of Jee's palms as they rested on Zuko's back and hip. They stood flush against each other now, chest to chest, and there was no mistaking the rhythm of Zuko's heart; its frantic pace was belying what little surface calm the boy could still muster.

Yes. This was definitely it. Jee had never been surer of anything in his life.

"Come here," he whispered, encircling Zuko with his arms more firmly and pulling him even closer. The boy, for once, read him correctly. His heart was _hammering_ against Jee's chest when he tilted his head up in expectation.

Objectively speaking, the kiss that followed was hardly spectacular. Certainly no movie director would feel the need to put it in a dramatic scene – it lacked the necessary passion, length and tongue. But to both of them, it was groundbreaking mostly because of the months of tension that led up to it. As soon as Jee's cold lips met the boy's, which were equally cold and chapped, he felt _right_, like he'd finally made the correct decision – which was laughable because kissing and groping his student was anything but correct.

Fuck that. It didn't matter anymore. Jee had been fighting a losing battle from the moment he decided to claim the high moral ground. That ground had _never_ suited him. He was anything _but_ high and his morals were at best tattered and frayed around the edges. After almost forty years of fuck-ups, small and large, he knew himself well enough to accept it – fuck, to embrace it. He was a small, insignificant grump who liked to drink and swore and fucked other men without shame, who had a chronic disregard for authority for authority's sake and who messed things up on a regular basis. That was just another bad decision on top of a lifetime of bad decisions and he would deal with the consequences if, or when, they came.

He would make it good. For both of them. He _liked_ this kid, dammit, and he _knew_ he could turn this mess into something positive. He would teach Zuko everything he knew and make sure that they both enjoyed it – and, in the process, perhaps he could make the kid confident enough in himself to actually open up and start leaving things behind.

Which, actually, was just a fancy way of thinking about sex. Jee knew as much. But he also knew that, even if sex didn't solve all the world's problems, it sure as hell made it all much, much better. In the end, maybe Zuko needed exactly that.

So he kissed him, his hands going up and down the kid's back inside the parka and absorbing his body heat through the fine material of the suit. Zuko filled the clothes _just so_, Jee could practically feel the muscles he'd admired so often moving underneath. God, the boy's frame fit him perfectly, his hips felt as though they were designed to be held by Jee's hands and it felt so, so good, Jee had no idea why he kept resisting for so long, he really didn't.

Idiot.

He had always been a crass, physical man. Zuko seemed even more so. There was no point in fighting it anymore, as long as it was something they both wanted.

He was tired of falling to sleep in an empty bed, goddammit. Of wanking to fantasies of the boy he now held in his arms. Of getting the short end of the stick. It was time to get something nice out of life

It felt good to kiss Zuko. There was no wine on his breath now, his mouth was getting warmer and he allowed Jee to take the lead, pliant and following. Sweet. Young. Eager.

Jee could definitely get used to this.

It wasn't long until they broke apart, but only far enough that Jee could look at Zuko and see the reaction. The brat was just tall enough that his hair tickled Jee's nose when he lowered his head, but from the flush of his healthy cheek and the light in his eyes Jee was fairly certain that they had just sealed something mutually beneficial.

Or at least one could only hope so.

"We're going away for the winter break," whispered the kid, reaching out to rub at Jee's arms, up and down. From how slow he was doing it, it seemed that he was almost tentative about it, as if he wasn't quite sure if this was allowed.

It made Jee feel like even more of a bastard.

"I know. Heard it back there," he replied, leaning in and burying his nose in Zuko's hair. It smelled good. "How long?"

"Two weeks."

Which translated into a bloody long time in Jee's book. Anything could happen in two weeks.

"My birthday isn't really today, you know," Zuko whispered, still rubbing at Jee's arms. "It's January 2nd. But uncle wanted to throw this stupid party now so I wouldn't _miss out_. As if I cared. He always does that even though he knows I hate them."

"But you still wanted me to come," Jee pointed out, holding him close.

"… Yeah."

Well then. One more birthday kiss definitely wouldn't hurt.

Jee disentangled his right hand from out of the parka and used it to tilt Zuko's head back up, but the kid hardly needed any prompting and opened his mouth as soon as he sensed Jee's intention. Christ, he was so _eager_, so young and eager and fresh and attractive and _his_.

When Jee kissed him again, he did it harder, grabbing the side of Zuko's face and holding him there , fingers threaded through black hair. They felt so soft, so nice to the touch, and Zuko's skin was exactly as smooth as it looked and yes, Jee had known this before, he had tasted this mouth before, but it seemed ages ago now and he needed to rediscover it all again.

Zuko responded just as urgently, standing up on tip-toe and slinging his arms around Jee's neck. Pressed against each other as close as it was possible, their mouths still moving with a need that was building up by the second, Jee shifted them both so that Zuko's back hit the wall of the teashop and Jee nearly covered him with his own body. The boy responded by opening his mouth even wider and letting out a breathless, urgent little noise – he liked it, oh God, he _liked_ it. After everything, just hearing it made Jee practically lightheaded, or maybe it was the beer, not that it mattered.

By the time they parted again because of what sounded like footsteps dangerously close to the back door, Jee was this near to shivering with cold, but he had also groped his fair share. It's not like he could help it – the kid's body felt so firm and delightful now that he could touch it all without feeling like a blasted criminal and his hands wandered _everywhere_, into the parka, over Zuko's chest through the material of the red shirt – the jacket came unbuttoned in the meantime – and across his abdomen, just because he fucking could. And Zuko was not only enjoying this rough treatment, he was encouraging it, practically climbing over Jee with his leg hooking itself over Jee's, rubbing up and down…

Jee had half the mind to just fuck everything and pack the kid with him into a cab, then drive to his apartment. He had a hunch Zuko would be down with that, the horny, delectable brat.

But they did hear footsteps, and then they did have to break apart, not a second too soon; when Jin opened the door and looked around in search of something – or maybe she was looking for Zuko, which was likely – they were both doing their best to hide the heavy breathing and to not look as though they had just been making out.

And it was really quite telling that even Jee, who had years of experience sneaking around dark corners of ships for illicit trysts with his partners, found it difficult to keep a straight face.

He was elated. He allowed himself something good and the burning aftertaste of Zuko's lips on his didn't inspire any guilt this time. He wanted more.

It was difficult to say whether they succeeded in their charade or not; the girl smiled at them both, but her expression was discreet. Either she clearly mastered this poker face business much better than Zuko had or she didn't suspect anything, though admittedly the latter was less likely given the last time the three of them found themselves alone.

Great. They had been at it for less than half an hour and already they were almost caught red-handed.

"There you are," she said, beaming at Zuko. "Come in, you two, your uncle brought out the cake."

Zuko groaned, throwing his head back against the wall. Jee had a suspicion he was overdoing it a little, probably to cover up his I've-Just-Been-Snogged look. It was a good look on him as far as Jee was concerned and he wanted to see more of it. "Not this again," the brat mumbled. "I told him I don't want a stupid cake!"

"As you do every year, Grumps. Come on. You too, sir, it's too cold to stay out here without a proper jacket."

Jee followed the two of them back inside, rubbing his hands together and breathing warm air into them to get his blood going again. Zuko didn't look back at him, but it was all right.

After all, the game was now on.

000000000

Back in the cab a couple of hours later Jee's cell buzzed again.

_So what happens now?_ it read. Jee smiled, his face lit up by the light from the screen.

_We'll talk when you get back_, he replied, then spread one arm over the back seat and looked out the window at the lights of Summerfield flashing by. He would have to change Zuko's name in his phone address book to something less obvious. They had to be sneaky about it now.

It was beginning.

He would be lying if he claimed he didn't have any more doubts now. They were still there because after all, Zuko was still his student and sleeping with him was definitely unethical. If they ever got discovered, there would be hell in store for both of them. Not to mention he wasn't all that sure he could handle Zuko with all of the kid's issues.

But he was confident now. The damage was done and there was absolutely no way of turning back, unless Zuko changed his mind during the two weeks away in Europe.

Jee knew he wouldn't change _his_. He'd settled for the lesser wrong. Now there was nothing for it but wait.

* * *

**A/N 2**: Yay, celebration! This chapter is both the tipping point in the story and a personal milestone, because I hit 100k total with it. The champagne is doubly warranted and so is my sincere thanks to everyone who stuck with me until this point. You're all fantastic.

Next time: an arrangement is made, decisions are followed up on and I use the word "cock." See you then!


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